


You're My Ultimate Hope

by itsnotyugoitsyuugo



Category: Dangan Ronpa, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: M/M, Non-Despair AU, Slow Romance, something I'll regret making in the long run
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-16
Updated: 2017-06-14
Packaged: 2018-08-15 06:44:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 25,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8046289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsnotyugoitsyuugo/pseuds/itsnotyugoitsyuugo
Summary: Hajime applied, thinking that his attendance at Hope's Peak Academy would make him talented. But he was wrong.The Reserve Course was hell. Being buried in work and pitted in the shadows of the Ultimates in the Main Course, he dreaded going to class every day. At the same time though, he couldn't bring himself to leave... this was the school of his dreams. As if the beginning of his first year wasn't painful enough, Hajime accidentally bumps into a student of the Main Course named Nagito, who worshiped those who were talented. He didn't know which quality of Nagito's was worse: his beauty or how he mistook Hajime for an Ultimate.





	1. Chapter 1

Hajime’s fingers quavered with discomfort and his palms were coated with a disgusting layer of sweat. His hands wouldn’t stop shaking, and his dark suit didn’t help either, as the outfit practically attracted heat. With every heavy step he made, the tie around his neck continued to choke him and his pants held its restricting hug around his legs. If it weren’t for his brisk breaths, he would have fainted from fatigue midstride.  
  
_You really shouldn’t have come to Hope’s Peak Academy._ _  
_  
Hajime shuddered. His feet skidded against the gravel and he couldn’t bring himself to raise them any higher. He was so damn weak and he just wanted to leave. He didn’t want to arrive at his apartment to briefly sleep and soon repeat the cycle of going to and leaving school again. He wanted to go somewhere far away, where no one would find him. He would lose himself in a far off, labyrinthine place where he would be without any worries. He didn’t care if this was next to a dumpster or in the midst of an icy tundra – any place of solitude would do. He needed peace, silence, a break from reality. He couldn’t take it anymore.  
  
Hajime’s parents emptied out their wallets in order to go to Hope’s Peak – a school affiliated with pure potential and success. High schoolers with distinguishable skill in a certain area (for instance: gaming, photography, or gymnastics) would be scouted by this prestigious educational environment in order to provide the world with hope from their talents. Those who graduate from there would be bestowed one free ticket to success – they would be given a job immediately afterward, practically securing their future. But Hajime didn’t have any talent at all; he was only a bland, normal, trite, run of the mill guy. He had to pay to get in, making the life savings of his loving parents dissipate instantaneously. What would he say to them when he told them sending him there was a mistake, and even if this was his dream school he couldn’t bear being there because of how lacking he was compared to everyone else?  
  
Instead of joining the Main Course like he’d always envisioned, he’d been plopped into the Reserve Course, along with a batch of other normal high schoolers. Even so, he knew he had nothing to begin with. Why would he expect to be above the proletarians of society? He was just… Hajime Hinata. A teenager who could’ve been replaced by any other person. There would be no impact on the world if he suddenly outed and disappeared – out of the billions on the planet, he was only a tiny spec. What effect could he make? All he had done – his studying, his chores, his everyday life – amounted to nothing. The consummate of his efforts went to nothing but the prolonging of his health. There was no point in him being there.  
  
He tugged at his collar, picking up the pace of his unresponsive feet. If he wasn’t in a hurry to go back to his apartment, he would have given up to his nausea and vomited in the bushes.  
  
Whilst contemplating this thought, his ears pricked up at shuffles of feet. He peered up to find fifteen students walking toward him, their eyes locked on the building behind him. The mere presence of these students made it feel like a bullet pierced through his chest – the intimidation they gave off emanated from them. Cursory glances at their faces made Hajime recognize them without trouble – no mistake, they were the 77th class of Hope’s Peak’s talented students.  
  
His eyes drifted toward the ground. He didn’t want to interact with them at all. He was too busy masking the tears on edges of his eyes, vigorously blinking to upkeep his dignity in front of these fifteen students. He didn’t even know why he felt like he was going to cry, but he could sense and experience the anxiety. The sheer enormity of the students overwhelmed him – it was as if an entire galaxy of stars and asteroids and planets revolved around them, each spherical object following their every movement and magnetized to the sublime spectacle each one of them were.  
  
_Just... keep walking._

Hajime breathed out and continued toward the gate. He avoided eye contact, only glancing every now and then to avoid bumping into one of those he envied. Otherwise, his line of sight remained perpendicular to the ground. And then the fifteen pairs of feet quieted, removing the worry Hinata had.  
  
He raised his head. The students had finally passed by, sparing him from embarrassment. Why did he have to see them, out of all the groups of people he could encounter? If he saw a gang of rebels, his heart wouldn’t have pounded as painfully as it had before. Ridiculous.  
  
While reprimanding fate for making him go through this anomalous torture, he felt pressure on his left shoulder. Hajime grunted, stepping to the side to steady himself. He turned his head, and before he could make a rude remark to the stranger for bumping into him, his mouth went agape. He struggled to recover from shock, mustering out with a cracked voice. “I, um…. I’m sorry… I didn’t see you there…”  
  
“Oh?” the taller boy tipped his head, the curls of his white hair bouncing with the motion. “No, it was my fault. You don’t have to apologize.”  
  
Hajime had already caught himself staring, but he couldn’t just look away.  
This boy’s grayish eyes widened, the enigmatic color of his irises glistening. Faint freckles dusted his pallid face, a slight pink glazed over his cheeks. The frame of his body was thin and dainty, despite his brown uniform trying to make him appear leaner. The mystery boy shifted his weight to his right side, furrowing his brows and pursing his lips. His hands grasped the single strap of his bag tighter as he too stared back at Hajime.  
  
Hajime whipped his head toward the gate, breaking his gaze from the boy. He felt the warmth permeating his skin spreading throughout his body. He swallowed and resumed his view on the ground. “Well, e-excuse me,”  
  
Although he had begun his departure with a swift pivot, the boy grabbed at his sleeve and pulled him back. With a gentle, unassuming inflection, “I haven’t seen your face around. Do you mind giving me a name to match your face with?”  
  
Hajime spun around, almost accidentally smacking the boy’s hand away with his arm. Drops of sweat rolled down the sides of his head, only more reason to make him insecure. His hands wrapped around the handle of his bag, turning the skin around his knuckles stark white. Words erupted from his mouth, spraying spit with every syllable uttered. “I’m Hajime Hinata… t-that’s my name.”  
  
He forced the corners of his lips to raise into a plastic smile. “Uh, it was nice meeting you, but I have to go somewhere really important. You probably have to go somewhere too, I mean, you’re going into the main building right? Of course you are, haha. So if you don’t mind,” Hajime raised his hand for courtesy. “I’ll be on my way.”  
  
Hajime turned his heels and bolted in the opposite direction. Leaving a cloud of dust in the boy’s face, he sprinted away from the school. Despite the tribulations his feet had already suffered, he couldn’t stop running until he didn’t recognize the buzzing streets around him. He was going to have to retrace his steps so he could find his way home.  
  
Darting his head from left to right, the high schooler followed familiar landmarks that he had seen with his blurred vision from running. He had slowed down to a stroll, finally able to compose himself. Hinata thought back to the boy he crossed paths with, his body not forgetting to sprinkle shameful warmth onto his cheeks.  
  
From the moment he laid eyes on him, he had realized the boy was one of the fifteen walking toward the building. He didn’t identify him right away during his brief headcount. A void formed in his chest when he realized this boy was so near, only. Maybe he wasn’t paying attention, but was he so dense that he couldn’t see someone right next to him?  
  
When he became aware of this boy, Hajime felt the brimming of his unknown specialty. He could sense the spectacular promise and potential from the ambience the boy gave off – whoever he was, Hajime knew for sure he was the complete opposite of himself. If the boy wasn’t as gracious as he had been, he would have held a grudge for being better than him. But he couldn’t – the boy was soft-spoken and kind, with the few seconds he had spent with him. He should have mocked Hinata for the impression he had left – he was brash and could barely stay calm in front of this stranger. He didn’t even turn back to see the possible stunned reaction the boy had when he made his rude exit. Hajime couldn’t bear seeing him again.  
  
But there was something else he felt. It bothered him more than the envy he felt for the boy for having a talent. But how could he let his head manipulate him like this when he didn’t even know this person? Did some parasite invade his brain? Or maybe a curse was casted onto him? Whatever the bizarre reason there was to the existence of the discourse in his thoughts, he knew the exact words to describe this feeling.  
  
Hajime was completely smitten.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for any future mischaracterization 
> 
> I apologize for potential plot holes
> 
> I apologize for any spelling or grammatical errors I'm too blind to see
> 
> I apologize if this story doesn't turn out as you'd hope it would
> 
> I'm a complete, utter beginner at this
> 
> Please help me grow as a mediocre writer <3
> 
> edit as of aug 6, 2018 ~ hello new readers, this was a project I began in 2016, and while updates have been rocky, I can now say that this will be something I may continue with and finish eventually. today I'm coming back here because after stopping updates to this story for about a year, I edited the first 8 chapters for vocabulary and minor changes. I hope my writing is more approachable as of this date, because I always look back to my old stuff and cringe, thinking that "ugh readers have to use the dictionary every 5 seconds this is NOT good... I don't even remember half of these words..." 
> 
> but yeahh. expect some constant minor edits to previous chapters in the future because my writing is never perfect. I hope you'll enjoy the escapades of Hajime and Nagito throughout their years at Hope's Peak Academy. thanks for reading the first chapter... hope you'll stay to see the rest!!


	2. Chapter 2

“Don’t forget to have a wonderful evening, class!” Yukizome, the exuberant and youthful teacher beamed, throwing her hands joyously into the air. “Dismissed!”  
  
The sunset shone through the windows of the classroom. When Yukizome gave permission for the class to leave, the relief was rife in the room. The rays were unbridled and lukewarm. Not one person could bear another minute of the heat.  
  
Hope’s Peak’s 77th class slowly dispersed, some reuniting with their friends to walk to their dormitories with. An elegant girl with cascading blond hair passed by with two boys trailing behind – one donning a beanie and a blue jumpsuit beguiled by the girl while the other heterochromatic boy marveled at his four hamsters performing acrobatics around his upper body. An odd combination of a redhead photographer and a flowered kimono wearer clung together like peas in a pod, giggling. A busty girl audaciously did flips and jumps out the door, followed by a worried buff coach who screeched reprimands at her before she could hurt herself – and the groupings go on and on.  
  
A certain boy with white hair slid thin notebooks into his bag, making sure the dexterity of his movements were slow as he didn’t want to bend the covers. He zipped the bag shut, the enclosed fabric causing the clang of a few soda cans to jingle next to the books crowded around them.  
  
“Nagito, you’re still here?” a soft, languid voice said beside the boy as he stood up straight.  
  
He turned to find a shorter girl wearing a thick hoodie under her school uniform and a spaceship clip in her hair. She bore a slightly open mouth and tilted her head, some of her hair almost catching onto her lips. The boy laughed and picked his bag up. “Chiaki Nanami, the Ultimate Gamer… and Miss Class Rep. You’re still here as well?”  
  
Chiaki held onto the straps of her backpack. “Why did you have to embellish my name? Should I call you Nagito Komaeda, the Ultimate Lucky Student? And also…” she leaned forward to tap against the side of Nagito’s bag, the aluminum cans clinking and liquid inside swishing. “the Dr. Hopper King?”  
  
The taller of the two stifled a laugh. “I don’t deserve to be called such things. Though, people like you and our classmates are culpable for such, don’t you think so?”  
  
“Um,” Chiaki traced circles with one of her feet. “The reason why I stayed behind was because I wanted to ask if we could walk home together.”  
  
“With me?” his eyes lit up like stage lights in a dark theater. “That would be such an honor, coming from Chiaki Nanami, the Ultimate G- “  
  
She gently hit Nagito’s arm and smiled. “You don’t have to flatter me. We’re friends.”  
  
“Okay, okay, I’ll keep my mouth shut about it,” he brushed her delicate hand from his arm. “Let’s go then, shall we?”  
  
Chiaki eagerly nodded, and the two of them went out of the classroom at their own pace, not concerned about how long they took. They spoke about their favorite games and what they thought there were going to do next in class – whatever subject came to mind. Even if they had a schism in interests, they carried banter just fine. At first glance no one would have thought they would get along, but being two of the quieter students in their class led to their acquaintance. Whenever Chiaki wasn’t occupied by her class rep antics, the first person she would go to is Nagito. Somehow, it worked.  
  
This particular evening, the duo took a detour around the school campus. They avoided the direction of their dormitories and instead found themselves next to the fountain, where Nagito assisted Chiaki in balancing herself on the stone ring around the splashing water. She walked the perimeter of the fountain with Nagito watching in caution so she wouldn’t fall in.  
  
After a few minutes of getting her shoes wet, she jumped off from the fountain. The horizon had been decorated with a greater variegation of warm colors, swashing pinks, yellows, reds, and oranges like a watercolor painting. The sun had lowered itself, hidden among the buildings that surrounded Hope’s Peak. Chiaki perked up from the change in scenery, not noticing how long they’d been out until now. “Oh… I think we should be getting back soon.”  
  
Nagito complied. “You’re right. If we don’t get going now, we might violate curfew…”  
  
The two resumed their departure – though they circled around the campus again, going against their own words. Rather than going out in the open, they strolled behind bushes and hid behind corners of buildings when they heard footsteps nearby. They perpetuated this little act of defiance until their eyelids began to droop. The curse of somnolence finally presented itself, along with another drastic change in environment – the sky had metamorphosed from warm colors to a deep navy blue coupled with iotas of white stars sprinkled about.  
  
Chiaki yawned, wiping a small tear from her eye. “I’m so tired…”  
  
“Don’t worry,” Nagito motioned to the left, acknowledging the main building of Hope’s Peak they came from earlier. “We should be nearing the dormitories now. Only a few minutes’ time and you’ll be nice and snug in your bed.”  
  
“Mm… That sounds nice.”  
  
They passed the gargantuan building and followed the walkway that led toward the gate. The steel bars had already closed off the exit, but all the two of them had to do was squeeze through – since one was considerably thin and the other small, it wouldn’t be too much of a problem. But Nagito stopped in his tracks before he approached the obstruction. Chiaki had gone a few steps ahead of him, but perked up in realization of his absence. She turned on her heels and frowned. “What’s wrong, Nagito?”  
  
“It’s… nothing of your concern,” Nagito began to pull at a strand of his curly hair, rolling it between his index finger and thumb.  
  
Chiaki puffed her cheeks, though with a lack of energy. “It does concern me if it gets in the way of my sleep. Can you tell me?”  
  
“There… was this strange boy who had bumped into me this morning. He’s equivalent to a blind man if he was unable to notice my overwhelmingly abysmal presence…” Chiaki winced at the last part, but Nagito continued.  
  
“It was the most peculiar thing – he was rushing out as if he had somewhere else to be… Yet there was something about him… Hajime Hinata, that was his name…” Nagito volume began to increase, echoing in the area over the silence around them. “Hajime may be a blind man, but there was this foreign ambience nearly emanating from him. It’s almost as if he was hiding this superior talent in him… enough to even crush the hope created from brilliant talents such as yours and our classmates…”  
  
He licked his lips, taking a quick breath before he prolonged his rambling. “Hajime had escaped my grasp before I could inquire him… I wish I had followed him, Chiaki. I want to know so, so badly. How could he have left without letting me know? Might he be experiencing some kind of delirium? I would love to meet his acquaintance… It might even become an unhealthy obsession if I never see this boy again. I would have to cross paths with him again, since he must go to Hope’s Peak. What else would be the reason behind my intuition? Do you not see my struggle, Chiaki?”  
  
Chiaki waited for a few seconds to make sure Nagito was finished, almost sighing from listening to another one of his  interminable monologues. The way he spoke sometimes tired the recipient of the conversation. “Hm… This person must really interest you to make you say things like that.”  
  
“Oh yes, he does.”  
  
There was a period of silence. Chiaki stood staring at the boy across from her, trying to contemplate his verbose speech about this boy he didn’t know. Despite the familiarity she had with Chiaki, she only knew him for a short amount of time ever since the school year started. Because of this, she still had yet to understand whatever nonsense he always expounded on. She wondered what his sudden fixation on this boy would amount to, but buried the thought for the sake of not encroaching on her friend’s personal matters. She truly couldn’t think of anything to respond with, and didn’t want to say anything wrong.  
  
Before she could make up a rudimentary remark, Nagito walked ahead. “I know the both of us have said this redundantly by now, but we should get back to our dormitories.”  
  
Chiaki couldn’t object, and nodded.

The duo proceeded to suck in their breaths and maneuver themselves through the gate, Nagito having to help Chiaki be pulled through due to her curvier body shape. Following this arduous task, the two made their way toward the destination they were supposed to arrive at in the first place – the dormitories.  
  
Chiaki yawned for the umpteenth time, covering her mouth politely with her hand. Her eyelids fluttered, on the brink of falling asleep. “Good night, Nagito.”  
  
“See you tomorrow.” Nagito hummed, whirling around to go to the male dorms. He had taken a few steps, but hearing Chiaki voice again interrupted him.  
  
“I hope you get to meet Hajime Hinata soon. You really seem to like him.”  
  
Nagito turned back to the sleepy girl. She attempted to look wide awake, but it looked more like her eyes were about to pop out of her head. She looked funny, but he knew she meant her statements wholeheartedly.  
  
He quickly shrugged off his astonishment and let out a giggle. “Of course I do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for deciding to read this, and I hope you enjoyed this chapter! 
> 
> I've always pictured Nanami and Komaeda being the most adorable friends. But there's also a little distance between them - because one half of the friendship is Komaeda, for goodness sake. I also don't want Komaeda to be as isolated as he is in canon, because that boy needs to be surrounded by people who care about him. 
> 
> Hinata and Komaeda will soon have their time together, don't worry.
> 
> I appreciate criticism and I'll see you in the next update, whenever that comes!
> 
> edit as of aug 6, 2018 ~ vocab fixes, still a strong supporter of komanami brotp


	3. Chapter 3

_Beep, beep, beep!_  
  
As if on cue, Hajime slammed his hand over the top of his alarm clock. The noisy plague in his ears finally stopped, and his body relaxed.  
  
He was a high schooler, yet he had yet to get used to waking himself up at the same time every morning. His sleep schedule was wonky as hell, which meant his alarm clock was far from being obsolescent. It was definitely going to stay that way for a long time.  
  
He dragged himself out of bed, flinging his sheets aimlessly, not caring if they landed on the floor. He rubbed his eyes and read the LED display of his clock, making sure he set it to the correct time the other night – luckily, it shone 7:00 AM in bright red.  
  
He slumped his shoulders and sighed. “Okay… time to get ready.”  
  
His sudden nimble movements wouldn’t have been predicted from his lackluster trudging from seconds ago – he could almost be mistaken for an olympian by the way he skidded and jumped around his room. Hajime fumbled for each article of clothing he needed, as well as gathering the notebooks littered around his room. He thought it was necessary to prepare yourself much in advance prior to school activity – the very reason why he rose at such ungodly hours.  
  
By 7:10 he composed himself, clothing void of lint specks or wrinkles. His hair naturally spiked in different directions, but a spate of swipes from a comb managed to calm the wild exterior it usually had. Hajime had meticulously cared for any imperfection he saw, whether it referred to the lack of shine on his shoes or the dry skin on his knuckles – they were all easy fixes. He wore the same old black suit and tie every day (as it was his most expensive and formal attire he owned) and encompassed the appearance of a businessman.  
  
However, classes didn’t begin until 8:30.

Rather than wasting time by going back to bed or fiddling with social media on his phone, he sat down at his desk and organized his notebooks in front of him. He had over an hour until he had to go out, so what better way to make time pass but to study material from previous lessons? By becoming an aficionado in every aspect of each subject, success will be imminent. He took out a pencil and lightly glided the tip over the lines upon lines of notes in his books, reviewing every tidbit of information he had written down in circumspection. He even took the liberty to rewrite letters in a neater hand in order to cull any future of him being unable to discern what his notes said.  
  
_You should just give up now. Why try when you already know you’ll never be as good as the rest? Did you actually think you could change yourself if you came here? You’re only setting yourself up for failure._  
  
He bit on his pencil’s eraser, letting the unpalatable rubber debris fall onto his tongue. He couldn’t let these thoughts sashay into his head. What he had to do right now is add notes in the tangents of his papers to ensure he wouldn’t forget those formulas or these research facts or the history or that one obscure country. If he focused on his education and became insurmountable in this rigorous academia  – maybe, just maybe – he could be rewarded with his own talent.  
  
His insecurities would nullify and he would be a bastion for the future. He would be someone who could provide something worthwhile to the world, contributing to the towering conglomerate of hope other students have been building up ever since Hope’s Peak’s nascence.  
  
So he had to keep working.  
  
After perusing three of his notebooks, Hajime grabbed his phone to check the time – 8:29.  
  
“Shit!” the three numbers on the screen sent ripples through his arms, almost causing him to drop his phone. He was shaking, shoving his notebooks into his bag without thought. The covers and pages smothered together, ruining most of the books. Hinata whispered profanities, admonishing himself for not being careful. “Ugh… how could I let this happen! I’m going to be late now!”  
  
He attempted to salvage his poor books by undoing any folds on the thin and delicate sheets of paper. He couldn’t hide the rips and indents on the cardboard covers, which stressed him even more.  
  
“Screw it…” he zipped his bag shut – getting one page stuck between the teeth of the zipper in the process – and scurried out his apartment. He could not afford to be late, especially when his dignity and prosperity in grades were on the line.  
  
As he ran, Hajime pulled the zipper on his bag back and forth. All of his notes would be rendered useless if he couldn’t get them out – and that darn paper stuck in the zipper rattled him even more. The lingering students about bore their eyes into him, making the task more arduous with the added pressure.  
  
It wasn’t even like him to be tardy. He could be speculating what led to this, but he was fully occupied. His body burned up in ineffable heat and his limbs twitched sporadically from disconsolation. There was no amnesty for being late – he could easily imagine the possible penalties for the offense.  
  
_For fuck’s sake. You’re a mess._ He thought to himself, groaning with the horrible torture on his legs.

 

* * *

 

“You may say that, but what if there were a frenzy of attacks on a country? You could suppose they would lie in wait and stipulate methods of mediation by peaceful means, or…” Sonia trailed off, her hand on her chin and foot tapping vigorously to exemplify her passion.  
  
“They would do quite the opposite!” Gundham bellowed, the four hamsters seated among his scarf squeaking in agreement as he breathlessly elaborated. “It is preposterous to let hell befall one’s indigenous place when they have the ability to enact revenge upon the strikers. For if an enemy unleashed burnout on your land, would you not want to retaliate with the power of infinite suns to crush the sorry souls who defiled your people, and in victory of this reprisal – “ in swift motions, Gundham flipped both his and Sonia’s desks over. “ – and regain the pride you have once lost in futility!”  
  
The other thirteen students fell into silence, save for a terrified gasp from Mikan.

Everybody stared at the princess and breeder in the center of the room – though Sonia paid no mind to the disturbance, holding up her arm and patting her bicep. She smirked with valor and said, “Now what is your rebuttal, scum!”  
  
Gundham laughed maniacally with her remark, while the pair across from them stood in disbelief. Fuyuhiko put his hands on his hips and huffed. “I’m not saying shit until they put their desks back.”  
  
“I don’t even think I can say anything back…” Kazuichi whimpered, quavering as he pulled his beanie down. “Sonia, please spare us!”  
  
“Everyone, calm down! This is supposed to be a fun activity to sharpen your argumentative skills,” Yukizome retorted from behind her podium. “Though, it is nice to see Sonia and Gundham so riled up. If defending their side requires destruction of the building, no need to worry – all expenses will be covered by me!”  
  
“That doesn’t sound reassuring at all!” Kazuichi decried with a look of misery of his face.  
  
The disruption came to an end and the classroom’s bumbling energy returned. The four students standing in the center of the room continued their heated debate on the subject of military strategy, though with less robustness than before. The other eleven sat in a circular formation around the perimeter of the room. Other than commotions like the one that had just transpired, none paid too much attention to what was going on and opted for idle conversation.  
  
This wasn’t the case for Nagito and Chiaki, though.  
  
“Everyone should have the right to hold a firearm, I think,” Chiaki articulated carefully, nervous to trip up on her speech. “In case of danger, you can always have one in self-defense.”  
  
“Oh? If that’s what you think, then…” Nagito slid his hand under his jacket and leaned toward Nanami. “What if I decided to pull out this gun hidden in my pocket?”  
  
The girl’s eyes widened and breathed in, but instead of overreacting she pushed the tip of her finger against Nagito’s nose and pushed him back. He traded a fake bewildered expression with Chiaki’s glare. “Don’t say scary things like that! You’re going to make me think you actually have one!”  
  
“Sorry! I wanted to see how you reacted, is all,” Nagito smiled apologetically. “You should be prepared for anything said during debates like these, Chiaki. Even if we don’t have a choice in what sides we argue for, it doesn’t mean we should dawdle.”  
  
“I have to think for a while before I respond, so I’m glad you’re my partner.” She rhythmically tapped her nails against the desk. “But I’d personally prefer writing it all down in an essay.”  
  
“But Miss Yukizome wouldn’t allow such droll assignments in this room. Isn’t it better to do it verbally, along with our other classmates? I already learn so much from sitting nearby everyone, so it must be a wonderful practice!” Nagito sat back in his seat and twirled some of his hair around his finger in satisfaction.  
  
Chiaki tilted her head and wondered how they digressed from gun control to praising their classmates. She concluded it was one of the many byproducts from being with Nagito, and left it at that.  
  
After their exchange, it seemed Sonia and Gundham were able to overpower Fuyuhiko and Kazuichi and came out victorious. The former two cavorted about the center of the room with weird dance moves while the other pair stood watching, agonizing over their loss. With the conclusion of the first debate, the teams switched out. This time, Ryota and Ibuki were going to go up against Akane and Nekomaru in a battle revolving around immigration.  
  
Yukizome thrusted her arm forth as if she waved a magic wand. She shouted with enthusiasm, “Aaand… begin!”  
  
“Oh my… what an interesting arrangement. This could only result in a disaster…” Despite his judgement of the absurd matchup, Nagito edged his seat closer to the clashing personalities. “I wonder how it will end!”  
  
“Nagito, I don’t mean to interrupt, but…” Chiaki interjected, diverting Komaeda’s attention away from the already rambunctious happenings. She hesitated, indecisive for which words she should use to make cohesive sense.  
  
“Do… you want to practice more?” his eyes flitted back between her and the pandemonium in the middle of the room. Ibuki screamed something about overpopulation while Ryota whined and told her to quiet down. Nagito rubbed his neck and politely chuckled at the scene, but projected the majority of his focus on Chiaki. “We may be going up soon, since there are only so many groups. What do you want to go over?”  
  
“No, no, that’s not what I wanted to talk about,” she pressed her palm over one of her cheeks as if it helped her to formulate her response. “Um… you’re still doing _that_ during lunch, right?”  
  
“Why are you referring to it as _that?_ I don’t recall being in a cult,” Chiaki lightheartedly rolled her eyes as he went on. “To answer your question… of course I’ll be looking for Hajime during lunch. I have yet to be given the fortune to discover his whereabouts, but I won’t be discouraged. If it takes until graduation for me to find him, it’s no matter to me!”  
  
“But you haven’t eaten with me for the past week.” Chiaki pouted, her hands retracting into the sleeves of her sweater. “Your fixation on Hajime knows no bounds. I don’t want it to sound like I’m impatient, but… How much longer will it take? Can you really stomach going through a lengthy pursuit when it might not end up how you want it to?”  
  
“Chiaki… you should know that it’s unseemly of me to not push forward in these situations. You see, even if there’s a chance I’ll be unable to see him… You musn’t forget I take pride in being the Ultimate Lucky Student, no matter how abominably disgraceful it is to be considered a talent.” He unconsciously continued the coiling of his hair around a finger, his expression becoming a little distant. “If I will it, somehow this talent I have will respond accordingly and give to me what I desire, even if it results in grave sacrifice. It isn’t on par with your expertise gaming skills, but…” he giggled fondly. “I know that somehow I’ll cross paths with Hajime. That moment may even be closer than you think…”  
  
“Oh…” she mimicked him in beginning to play with her own hair. “I didn’t mean it like that. I’m sad because… eating lunch isn’t the same without you.”  
  
“Huh… you say that like you enjoy basking in my presence!”  
  
“Don’t kid yourself, Nagito.”  
  
He noticed her slight annoyance. He couldn’t take her cute angry face seriously, so he didn’t put in any effort in repulsing her statements. “Alright, then. I promise to eat lunch with you soon. But give me today – a desperate boy who desires to be a proponent to the hopeful crusaders in this academy – to look for Hajime.”  
  
“Is that a promise… Wait, no!” Chiaki extended her right arm, her hand poking out of the sleeve. All her fingers were curled down except for her pinky. “Pinky promise?”  
  
“How could I say no?” Nagito brought up his right hand and wrapped his pinky around hers. “I promise. And should I break it, it is on you to provide a punishment for my traitorous ways.”  
  
“I will not hurt you, Nagito.”  
  
“Ha, I know that very well.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I struggled with writing this because my brain refused to get its gears turning. It's pathetic how this is already happening to me - this is only the beginning of the story! But don't mind me, I'm sure you care more about the content above than the sorry excuses from the author.
> 
> If my horrid descriptions didn't make it apparent, this chapter takes place a few days after the previous two! So there's that.
> 
> I really do hope that my writing doesn't... "suck?" Thank you so much if you take the time to read these convoluted drabbles! And once again I appreciate your comments and criticism - I really need it. ;v;
> 
> Enough babbling from me though. See you in the next update!
> 
> edit as of aug 6, 2018 ~ guess who learned about horizontal lines in ao3 *throws confetti*


	4. Chapter 4

“That lesson was really hard…” Sato combed her bangs with her fingers, discontent at the lack of attention she gave during class. She barely got any notes down, yet her right hand reddened with calluses like they were emblazoned into her skin. She swung in her chair and bounded toward the row of desks closest to the window, choosing to sit sideways at the second to last desk in the row. She threw her arms over to the last desk which was already occupied by a boy whose eyes were on her. “Hey Hajime… did you understand everything?”  
  
“Um… for the most part,” he placed a finger over his lips and glanced down at his notebook – he cringed at the derelict appearance of it with creased pages and intermittent rips. He instead focused on what he had written down, and noticed how it excluded the depth required for perfect understanding. “But I think I’m going to do some research so I understand all of this better. Then I can revise my notes…”  
  
“Can I borrow them whenever you get done? I don’t mean to, but every now and then I sneak a peek at your books and…” the girl sighed, eying his neat handwriting. “Your notes always seem to be really good. That’s why you get the top marks in class, huh?”  
  
“Thanks… I guess,” Hajime closed his notebook and began to collate the mess of class materials flooding his desk. He slid his things back into his bag and nodded at Sato. “If it’s going to help you, then I don’t mind.”  
  
A hand thrusted itself onto Hajime’s desk, ratting the tenuous legs barely suspending the wooden top. Hajime and Sato twitched, and after recovering from the shock they both looked at the infamous Natsumi Kuzuryuu. She had the gumption to take up half the desk with her hand splayed overtop it, leaving barely any room for Hajime or Sato to relax their arms on it. “Hey, I wouldn’t mind if you gave me those notes too.”  
  
A few students who hadn’t left the classroom shied away once they realized Natsumi was doing her thing again. Sato’s expression turned aggressive as soon as the she appeared, biting down on her lip.   
  
“What’s that sour look on your face? Classmates are supposed to help each other out,” she narrowed her eyes at Sato. A second later she looked back at Hajime and winked, contrasting her previously sardonic demeanor. “So, is it a deal or what?”  
  
“S-sure. I’ll get them to you after Sato does.” Hajime held onto the edge of his desk, unsure of where the conversation was going to go next. Sato stuck her tongue out, and Natsumi noticed the oral insult. She didn’t let her fuse blow thought – merely her cheek twitched in frustration. It was clear as day that the two detested each other.  
  
“If I do well enough in this class, the teachers will definitely see that I fit into the criteria in order to become an Ultimate!” Natsumi averred, shouting loud and proud. “Those adults better watch out because the Ultimate Little Sister will soon emerge from latency!”  
  
“Pffft, yeah right. That’ll definitely happen,” Sato didn’t even try to veneer her giggles. “A Reserve Course student becoming an Ultimate? Even if that were possible, I don’t think it’d be you.”  
  
And there Natsumi erupted like a volcano, lava-equivalent spit mizzling from her mouth. Both her hands slammed harder on the desk – the movement was so forced that it could have quaked the whole building. “Excuse me? But who asked you to give a damn opinion! It’s not like you even try to do anything – you’re just accepting that you’re talentless trash! Oh wait… that probably makes sense, because you really are garbage!”  
  
Sato sneered and leaned backward to put space between them. “I’m pretty sure an Ultimate Little Sister wouldn’t have a short temper. It’s so… slovenly.”  
  
Before Natsumi could riposte with her arm already being swung back, Hajime stood up. His chair shrieked from the friction against the floor, piercing the ears of anyone in the nearest vicinity of the trio. The racket temporarily stopped the disquiet among the girls, and he spoke before they could complain. “Okay – I’ll eventually hand over my notes to the both of you, end of story. You don’t have to create a conflict out of stuff like studying since it’s not going to get you anywhere. If you’re going to fight... could you do it in a more private place? People are staring and I really don’t feel the need to get in trouble because two girls are pulling each other’s hair in front of my desk. Please, just stop.”  
  
Sato and Natsumi shot looks at each other. After being reprimanded, neither felt like arguing anymore. The girls simply turned and huffed at the same time.  
  
“Whatever, it’s fine. I had somewhere to be anyway,” Sato grabbed her bag and slung it over her shoulder. “I’m going to eat with Mahiru.”  
  
“Oh, just go to your stupid girlfriend already,” Natsumi rejoined, stepping to the side in an odd politeness. She held her arm up like a waiter at a fancy restaurant. “Now leave.”  
  
Sato left no time to spare in her exit, bolting out the classroom before Natsumi could say anything else.  
  
Hajime sighed and shook his head. “I don’t get you two. It’s not like grudges are healthy or anything.”  
  
“And I don’t get how you could have let her sit in the seat in front of you just now. If I saw her gallivanting from her side of the room to here and lumping herself onto this desk,” she pointed at the seat in front of Hajime to illustrate her point. “I'd jump out the window the second her mucky hair bobs in my face!”  
  
Hajime cringed at the remark. He never knew animosity could reach such dangerous levels. He also wasn’t aware of the reasoning behind his friendship – no, acquaintance? – of Sato and Natsumi. Ever since the year started, all he could remember from those two were the toxic arguments they’d have. He always ended up having to go between and then suggest a panacea so they would briefly shut up before a teacher came to yell at them. In his involvement, he somehow gained both of their numbers and became an outlet for either one of them to gossip about their foe without the other knowing. On occasion he would go on casual outings with them – though, without both present. That would be a disaster.   
  
“Well, I don’t think I want to stay to see any of that happening. I’m going out for a bit,” Hajime got his bag and made sure to zip it with care – he didn’t want to repeat this morning’s incident. “If you need me, I’ll be reading at the same place.”  
  
“Not eating?” Natsumi raised a brow. “Typical Hajime, getting nutrition from reading books.”  
  
He was bewildered at first, but then he noticed his bag was more empty than usual. His morning flashed before his eyes, and he gulped as the realization that he hadn’t brought a lunch caught up to him. All that preparation before classes and he didn’t bring a meal to satiate his midday hunger. “I guess I am, now that you say so.”  
  
“Good luck with the starvation then.” Natsumi teased, knowing that her statement was a little too grim.  
  
“I’ll make it through somehow,” Hajime nodded at her as he made his way out, she responding the same way.   
  
He left the building and strolled to the same spot he came to everyday – the fountain. Not many students went through the area because it was so far off, but he didn’t mind the lack of ruckus. He liked being alone sometimes.  
  
Hajime situated himself onto a bench in front of the fountain, being slightly sprayed with water droplets that didn’t land in the basin. He crossed one leg over the other and took a book out of his bag, releasing the breath he held in the entire day. He opened the hardcover book and the fragrance of paper greeted him, the smell wafting into his nose. He was glad his book didn’t get destroyed in his morning rush.  
  
The story he was reading was about a family sojourning to a third-world country for a religious mission, and problems they experienced from going there. Hinata enjoyed the palatial descriptions that beautifully scripted the scenery in his head. He couldn’t decide his favorite character – each daughter of the family had distinctive traits that distinguished them from one another, and the mother’s internal tribulations from watching hell befall her family was heartbreaking. But the father was extremely hard to like with his dogmatic mindset and wrongful ways of teaching. The inculcations of his religion failed to pique the interest of the people because he lacked heart, which ultimately caused the demise of his family.  
  
Hajime took his time as he flipped through the pages, jumping from one daughter’s perspective to another every so often. At some point he read so much that the tiny font on the pages blurred, and so he closed his book to instead look up at the sky. The white clouds swirled in sinuous cottony arrangements, and they were nice to stare at. They were almost mesmerizing.  
  
_It really is quiet here,_ he thought.   
  
_A Reserve Course student becoming an Ultimate? Even if that were possible, I don’t think it’d be you._  
  
Hajime jolted awake from his daydreaming, and his head worked to replay the dispute between Sato and Natsumi. He clenched his teeth, wondering why his mind drew back to this. The words whirred through his head, and he found himself spurring thoughts. Bad thoughts.

His eyes relocated the book he gripped in his hand and the prompt conclusion he made fell into place, unwelcomed.  
  
Natsumi had insisted that it was possible for normal people to become talented – or in the least, she could do it. On the other hand, Sato bluntly stated the opposite and there was no use dwelling on this fact. Why didn’t he pay more attention to what they said – did the heat of the moment distract him from comprehending the meanings behind the words they said? And that brewed something else – was he ever going to earn a talent? It’s been a while since the year started and he still didn’t have a thing special about him. It was like his studying was for naught. How much longer did he have to wait?  
  
And the pondering bridged onto a different topic relating to the book he was reading – more specifically, the character of the father. He tried to make the inhabitants of the third-world country believe in the same religion he did, constantly praising his god and illuminating on sacrosanct scripture no one lent an ear to. His exhortations never worked and he was soon casted out of society because his assertions never made an impact. 

So those who believed talent could be earned were like the father, and were bound to fail in their strive to prove they’re right. Whereas those who believed in the indisputable truth were like the people of the third-world country, having already accepted what is right to them. If what he thought was right… was that why Hajime loathed the father’s character so much? 

Because he reminded him of himself?

Hajime knew he had overstayed his welcome outside. Classes were probably going to resume soon, so he might as well leave now before he gets nagged at for being late again. He rubbed his sleeve over his eyes to rid of any urge to cry and shoved his book into his bag, not caring whether it ruined any of his other stuff or not. He stood up and was about to begin his dreary walk back to class, but then increasingly loud footsteps and an ecstatic voice –  
  
“So that’s where you were, Hajime!”  
  
His breathing nearly stopped, and his bag almost slipped through his fingers. The origin of the noise came from a boy whose arm was outstretched, waving it sporadically. He slowed down to a jog as he got closer, and put his hands on his knees when he arrived in front of Hajime. He heaved heavily as if he ran a marathon – but it did appear so when he straightened his stance to reveal his pink face glistening with perspiration. He seemed to be exhausted, though some outside force tried to make it seem like the boy sparkled instead of sweated. Hajime's eyes trailed to the boy’s underarms, and was baffled when he discovered the absence of dampness. In those thick layers of clothes?  
  
The boy smiled ear to ear as if his appearance was nothing out of the ordinary. “I’ve been looking all over for you! I may have given in to dejection if I hadn’t found you now. In this moment you stand before me, and what a grand sight it is to be blessed with your presence!”  
  
Hajime was speechless, not because the boy’s greeting was so weird but because he knew who he was. This was the boy from the 77th class. This was the boy who had rendered him too ashamed to utter three awkward squeaks before bee lining away. This was the boy with the hypnotic gray eyes and mystifying unpigmented hair and ghostly skin that seemed too ethereal to be realistic. And now, this was the boy that for some forsaken reason went out of his way to find Hajime again. For goodness sake.  
  
But little did Hajime know that this boy would eventually end up more than an ephemeral peculiarity in his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few things: If you've been wondering why I write "Kibougamine" and add on honorifics but use "Ultimate" instead of "SHSL"/"Super High School Level" is because I find the latter pretty unnatural to say? It's my personal preference and I apologize if it deters your reading experience! (Edit: Aaaand as of 1/28/17, I'm fully nixing this unnecessary mix of names and everything will be named accordingly to the English localization. I was getting annoyed with the honorifics and whatnot, and overall I just find it easier to write. I'm *such* a great writer for constantly changing stuff like this. wink wonk.)
> 
> I changed the circumstances in which Hinata/Sato/Natsumi met because this is a "Non-Despair AU" for a reason. Basically... stuff will mixed around because this is how I would see it if DR events didn't happen. (Edit: This is just imbued with my guilty pleasure wishes lmao) That, and I'm a pathetic pacifist who wants everyone to be friends...
> 
> This might not be something you care about, but I'm going to TRY to lengthen the chapters a bit more. Rounding off chapters at about 2000 words doesn't leave much plot to forward but a measly few pieces of dialogue - so after I get the intro set in motion... I'll TRY. With every fiber of my being! I mean... trying is what really matters, right? Haha...
> 
> Well, it's obvious what's coming next chapter. This'll be a doozy.  
> Anyway, enough chitchat. Thank you for any support and criticism helps a lot - and, I'll see you in the next update!
> 
> edit as of aug 6, 2018 ~ vocab edits; dunno if anyone picked up on which book I was referencing, but if you were wondering, Hajime was reading The Poisonwood Bible by Barbara Kingsolver. I was rereading this book at the time I was writing this and it's one of my favorites... so of course I had to fanservice it a bit in here


	5. Chapter 5

“Um,” Hajime began.  
  
The boy stood inches away, rendering Hajime with the encapsulation of his every fine detail. If there was a word to describe this boy, it was fluttering. Everything about him oscillated to and fro – his shoulders moved with his terse breaths and his hair swayed in sync. His faded, gaunt body made him similar to an apparition but describing him as a demonic spirit would be wrong. His beauty was bewitching and it was unbelievable he was real. Furthermore, his company was percolating, and even if Hajime didn’t have the urgency to leave like last time he still felt twinges of nervousness prick him. Warmth practically washed over his face, and his shame glued his feet to the ground. 

Hajime mentally hissed to himself, regretting he stepped foot out his room. Here he was, enacting the incipience of an extravaganza of his own repute degradation.   
  
“Did I startle you? I can see it on your face,” the boy tilted his head to the side, his curly bangs almost hiding his eyes. “Do you not remember me?"  
  
He wanted to tell him otherwise, but his talking disability prevented a reply. Really – Hajime hadn’t forgotten this boy at all. However, he rejected the thought of a second meeting. They held uneven levels of worth, the mystery boy having some sort of talent that made him better than Hajime.   
  
Despite the polarity between them, this boy brought about this meeting. What in his right mind made him think it was a good idea to see Hajime again?   
  
His legs were ready to collapse underneath him – the only push he needed to fall was the other inquiring what the hell was wrong with him. Hajime already knew his answer would be jumbled up nonsense that would bury him deeper into the hole he’s dug.  
  
The boy shuffled his feet and laughed weakly. “You’re speechless… well, I guess it’s better not to recover a cringeworthy memory since I have to do with it. Or… maybe I have the wrong person. I didn’t mean to take up your time – “  
  
“D-don’t say that,” Hajime mustered out. He didn't expect the boy to be so self-deprecating. “I was just... surprised since I didn’t expect to see you again. And I promise... I don’t think you to be a bad person.”  
  
“Ah! You talk!” the boy joked. “And you don’t connote my actions with negativity… thank goodness. I would’ve never thought someone who ran away from me so quickly to be so kind – to be honest, I thought you were revolted by me when we bumped into each other.”  
  
“I wasn’t! I, uh… was… d-ditching class,” he spat out unconvincingly, even if the statement was truthful.  
  
“You were? My, my we have a little rebel… It’s fortuitous that Hope’s Peak allows Main Course students absences. Class attendance used to be trivial to me, but I now enjoy sharing precious moments with my fellow students. But you have your reasons for skipping too, and I won’t ask about them if you don’t want me to. With this, we can draw the conclusion that we must think differently then, right?”  
  
“Y-yeah,” Hajime stared at the boy in disbelief. He thought he misheard the other, but there was no other way his brain would arrange the words when he played them in his head again and again. This boy thought he was in the Main Course.   
  
And thinking about it, Hajime understood why he thought so – the boy saw him coming from the general direction of the main building. But that all he really needed to know in order to confirm this? Looking at himself, Hajime lacked the tiniest inkling of specialty within him – at this point in his life, one of his part-time occupations should be a loser with no skills. If he was meeting himself, he wouldn’t have been half as exuberant than this boy – what was this guy’s deal?   
  
“Wait… I’m getting a little bit ahead of myself. I don’t mean to sound too excited! Honestly, I’m really excited to talk to you so casually, Hajime.” The boy partially hopped with the raising of his heels, his bubbly body language spreading with virulence to all his limbs.   
  
Hajime felt like he was sinking into quicksand, becoming engulfed with the gooey mess of his quagmire. But he couldn’t afford blanking out during a conversation. Despite his fear, he had to take initiative – and the amount of questions he had for this boy burst out in incremental amounts. So with a valorous step forward and a macho huff, he asked, “But why? You don’t even know me, except for my name…”  
  
“And that’s part of the reason why I’m so hung up on you – I want to know more,” warmth flooded Hajime’s cheeks again, though the boy spoke on without taking note of the tomato-face before him. “It’s like when you’re presented with a group of characters from a story, but you only know their appearances and names. Among the myriad of people, isn’t there always one that piques your interest? You could say this state of affairs is similar.”  
  
“And… I’ve always been enamored by Hope's Peak Academy. Even if I hadn’t gone here, my affections would never waver – the purpose of this place is to be the foundation of hope for the future. With the talents of the students that come and go here… there’s no denying that our idealities will become reality. Isn’t that a beautiful thing to picture?” the boy inched closer, giving Hajime a panoramic of his face, displaying childish captivation. “And you, Hajime, are also one of those promising students. Even without talking to you, I can tell you’re bursting with opportune. You have no idea how disparate you are from a normal person. You are more deserving of homage than me, no contest.”  
  
Hajime retracted his steps, leaving space between himself and the boy so he wouldn’t do something stupid like bump their foreheads or sullying the oxygen around them with his heavy breaths.   
  
Hajime tried not to cower, instead standing straighter, though his hands constricting the handle of his bag in preparation for what was coming ahead. “Hey, I’m sure you have a great talent too.”  
  
“Huh? I don’t see anything particularly great about my talent. I picture it more as a gift – not in a congenital skill, but a literal gift, as it has allowed me to be surrounded by other Ultimates,” the boy sighed, shrugging his shoulders like he spoke about trivial things. “It might not be appeasing to know, but I’m the Ultimate Lucky Student. I wasn’t even scouted the same way as the others – I was selected in an raffle in favor of thousands of other people, but what does that matter? They basically shoved a clueless boy into a ring of powerhouses!"  
  
He laughed at his joke, but Hajime didn’t find it hysterical at all. The boy admitted to having an Ultimate title, and he discarded it like it was chaff! “It’s the opposite to me, actually. You said thousands of people were rejected because you were randomly picked, and that's really lucky on its own. You deserve to be called that."  
  
“I don’t think anyone had said that about my luck… Thank you,” the boy smiled. “But your talent has to be better.”  
  
The boy’s commentating was interrupted by silence. Hajime wrinkled his nose, but his confusion was soon intercepted by enlightenment – he wanted Hajime to unveil his talent.  
  
_How did you get yourself into this mess!_ he gulped, hoping the boy would look away so in that margin of time he could slap himself across the face. What was he supposed to say?  
  
_I didn’t mean to accept your adulation, but I’m not an Ultimate. Your compliments were for naught because I’m actually a Reserve Course student. Your performance was rather enjoyable though – for the first time since I’ve been to this academy I’ve gotten words of appreciation. Albeit they were exalting something nonexistent, I was flattered nonetheless. Good day mystery boy, and may you and your Ultimate friends learn how us cardboard cutout people feel when we’re told to redundancy how banal our lives are._  
  
As if.  
  
Hajime didn’t want to tell the truth. But he wondered – what effect would keeping mum bring? And same for the other choice – would the knowledge of his lack of talent spur detest between the two? And does it even matter if dour feelings occurred since the total amount of time the boys spent together were only mere minutes? How terrible would he think Hajime was for leading him on so far? This boy had deference for the Ultimates, so would he disrespect Hajime if he knew he was a Reserve Course student? Was it really too late for him to laugh it off and tell the boy’s precognition of his talent was a farce?   
  
But the most protruding question was: why did Hajime make such a big deal out of it? He was ambivalent, and couldn’t make a decision. Him being afraid kept his hand from pointing directly at one choice.   
  
Schrödinger’s High School Student.   
  
Maybe that was Hajime’s talent – the Ultimate Contradiction. He was obliged to make a decision but he couldn’t.  
  
“Um, I,” Hajime coughed to clear his throat. He didn’t want his articulation to be an insult to people who could talk.   
  
The boy tilted his head, and Hajime sympathized with the bemused motion.   
  
He couldn’t believe his klutziness – every time he opened his mouth a poor amalgamation of syllables tripped over each other like dominos.  
  
He then swallowed, clearing his throat for a second time as if it would save himself from pooling out any auditory mistakes. He attempted another unplanned revelation of his talent – or lack thereof. Maybe he could let whatever the heck spill out and everything will turn out okay. But it was so hard to let one of the two statements fly in wanton liberty – _my talent is…_ or, _I don’t have a talent._ __  
  
In the end, he decided –   
  
__Ding dong, bing bong.  
  
“The bell,” the boy furled his brows in annoyance. He glanced at the towering school buildings behind the colonnades of trees. “If we don’t hurry, we’ll miss out on class festivities.”  
  
Despite his previous indecision, Hajime was one step ahead in his response. Main and Reserve Course students resided in different buildings – as per Hajime’s observation that his classes were in a hypothetical microcosm of the gargantuan main building. If the other witnessed Hajime walking away to the Reserve Course building, he’d grow suspicious. So Hajime said in quick succession, “I was actually planning to skip… you can go ahead.”  
  
“Are you sure?” the boy frowned as he began to turn away.  
  
Hajime’s hand pulled at his collar – if he had done so with more adroit he would’ve unfastened a seam and caused his shirt to unravel, similar to how he comported himself now.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine.”  
  
“Mm… you’re quite the troublemaker. Be sure not to abstain from going to classes often. It’s not that bad,” he giggled endearingly. “I wouldn’t dare to ditch, for I may miss the chance of recognizing the possible gestation of hope from my classmates. So… until next time, Hajime.”  
  
He turned around and walked back toward the mass of buildings, the pitter pattering of his steps quieting into attrition. Hajime couldn’t help but stare as he absent-mindedly crushed pebbles into shards with his foot. Rather than being relieved at the boy’s departure, something didn’t feel right. His gaze pricked needles into the now minuscule backside of the boy – and that’s when he noticed his continuous reference to this guy as the/this/that boy instead of a real moniker.  
  
And he found himself shouting, just before the boy disappeared behind the wall of trees. “Hey!”  
  
His voice reverberated in the quiet area, Hajime underestimating the noise sensitivity of unpopulated areas. His vocal explosion was probably heard by everyone on campus. But at least it was loud enough to have the boy turn around, the small figure in the distance now facing him. “I never got your name!”  
  
The boy from afar seemed to mumble something to himself, though it was hard to make out. But after his episode he cupped his hands around his mouth. His voice was voluminous among the silent surroundings, yet still kept the same sonorous, soft tone. He enunciated his name with immense care. “Nagito Komaeda!”  
  
Nagito put his thumb up in the air, and Hajime copied to let him know he heard it correctly. Hajime then saw Nagito clasp his hands together in satisfaction, and turned to go back to class. The blurry distance and inestimable number of trees obscured the boy, and soon made him furtive. He was gone.  
  
Nagito. His name is Nagito.  
  
Euphoric glee rushed through him. He had no explanation for why he wanted to know the boy’s name – his voice gushed out viscerally. The only legitimate reason he could link his desire to was that he could imagine the boy’s appearance and concatenate it with his lovely name – Nagito.  
  
But the delight halted when he remembered he hadn’t told Nagito about his faux talent. What would happen if they saw each other again – he said until next time but Hajime had no idea when that would be.   
  
_Why does he even wonder what I’m the Ultimate of – no matter how you look at it, if you place me with all these remarkable students in Hope's Peak Academy… there's no comparing me to them._ Hajime elicited a sigh and bit his lip at the thought. _There’s no way I’d be pictured as their equal…_  
  
__I really should just… forget about him.  
  
“Wait – crap, I’m going to be late again!” Hajime didn’t even have to look at his phone this time. He knew he was going to be the last straggler dashing into the classroom before the door slams shut.   
  
He picked up his feet, the weight of dread taking a toll on his lower body. He already forgot about Nagito – he had school to worry about first.  


 

* * *

 

The week zipped by just like that.

All Hajime recalled was the piles of classwork he had to whiz by and him breaking up fights between Sato and Natsumi. His unkempt skill in keeping track of time convinced him he was in a state of anachronism – gliding his eyes over the hands of an analog clock or the digital display on his alarm never registered. He couldn’t believe the time on his phone either. He always felt out of place.  
  
Everything seemed to pass by at awry speeds, one moment flitting past him while another moved at a snail’s pace so slow it would make one antsy. But whenever the weekend arrived, his temporality reverted back to normal for 48 hours.   
  
He scribbled necessities down on a torn out sheet of lined paper, twitching at the ink bleeding ugly splotches onto what was supposed to be a list of groceries. Another thing he needed to buy – some new damn pens. Even if his right arm seethed with indignation, his left hand steadily held his phone against his ear as he listened to his mom talking on the other line. “Are you sure you don’t need anything else, Hajime? It’s been a while since you last asked for snacks or clothes or toiletries – “  
  
“Mom, I’m okay! When you guys sent me off you already bombarded me with a bunch of stuff…” Hajime scratched the back of his head, careful not to accidentally create an inked vignette on his scalp with his pen. “Besides, I’m going out today. Remember that allowance you two sent me? I’m putting it to good use, so don’t send anything else!”  
  
“Ah my son, responsible as always!” his dad roared as if Hajime wouldn’t be able to hear him with his normal (and already flamboyant) voice. “You’re having a grand time at Hope's Peak, right? It’s been weeks and we want to know how you’re doing there.”  
  
“Oh, um,” Hajime itched his head more, feeling like it was full of crawling insects. Did he have to answer honestly? “Yeah, it’s all good. The course isn’t as hard as I’d thought it’d be – I assure you two my grades are top notch. It’d be a waste of money if I didn’t do well…”  
  
“We already know that. Hajime, your grades were always at the top of the class so you don’t need to be concerned at all. What we want to hear is if you’re making friends and having a blast!”  
  
His mom chimed in. “And if you get a special someone, please tell us what they’re like!”  
  
“H-hey! Don’t embarrass me like that…” Hajime chuckled, though he couldn’t shake the unease he got from his parents’ questioning. He didn’t mind small talk, but wasn’t fond of the invasion on his school life – he’s been ridden with so much work that he barely has the time to sit idly and smell the roses. He absolutely didn’t want to override his parents with the angst of his stress with work and the distressing envy he had for the Ultimates. He already bothered them with the scant money he left them with from the academy’s exorbitant fee. And the only friends he could think of were Sato and Natsumi – individually they treated him nicely but once they’re together he’s suddenly responsible for their separation before a small skirmish turns into a scandal. So he continued his lies on his carefree life. “But, there’s two people in my class. Their names are Sato and Natsumi – you could say we’re three peas in a pod. We get along so well.”  
  
“That’s great, honey! Maybe we can meet them soon.” His mom cheered.  
  
“Only when he’s done with his schoolwork. That’s why he’s able to call us once a week – Hajime’s a busy kid!” his dad cackled, unnerving Hajime despite being so light-hearted. He could only imagine the amount tests he might get next week and the hours of tedious studying he needed to do for them. Even writing notes was a pain in the ass that strained the bones in his right hand – eventually he had to learn how to be ambidextrous so the tendons on his dominant hand wouldn’t break off during the year.  
  
Just as he finished his list, his pen luckily ran out of ink to spare any other paper from receiving the black bleeding onto itself. “Uh, is it okay if I say bye here? I should get going now, I have a few things on my agenda…”  
  
“So soon?” Hajime sensed the wistfulness in his mom’s voice.  
  
“Don’t worry mom, I’ll call again next weekend.” He weakly smiled, even if the two of them couldn’t see.  
  
“That better be a promise, son,” his dad added. “We know you’re busy, but don’t get too occupied!”  
  
“Okay, sure,” Hajime rolled his eyes. “Bye then. Love you guys.”  
  
“We love you too, honey!” his parents said in unison.  
  
He ended the call and sighed. He didn’t want to end the chat so quickly but he had things to do – and he didn’t want to elaborate any more lies he told. Maybe next week would be a better time.   
  
He put his phone in his back pocket and glanced around his apartment. He lived off campus  – he didn’t want to dip his hand deeper into his parents’ funds with housing so he instead chose a dank motel nearby. It was nothing too fancy but at least it was affordable, and other Reserve Course students lived there so he was in the same boat as some fellow classmates.   
  
One thing about this place was that you were required to keep your room in good shape. It shouldn’t have been a problem for him since his room at home was usually kept in a state of cleanliness, but with the short time that has passed his little apartment converted itself from tidy to a disorganized place of damnation. He strung a few shirts wherever they could be hung – most were on hangers in his tiny closet but others were aloft from his bed frame or sitting atop a lamp. Discarded assignments from earlier in the school year rested under his desk, papers he sometimes unwittingly stepped on. He never cared to make his bed anymore and his sheets laid amid the floor he seldom checked for dust, debris, and dead six-legged creatures. The only place he was able to keep in track was his attached bathroom – it would be a curse not to make sure it was spotless.   
  
Hajime wedged the pen between crumpled up papers and plastic wraps from snacks. He stuffed his list into his pocket and reminded himself to take out the trash eventually. Choosing when to do chores was a perk of living alone, but Hinata was so swamped in trying to balance school and free time, he couldn’t pass up a mere minute to sweep the floor and rearrange his living quarters. 

48 hours wasn’t nearly a long enough break for a Reserve Course student at Hope's Peak Academy. And that caught Hajime's attention more than the ruined appearance of his room.   
  


* * *

  
  
“If you think about it, Hajime is like one of those elusive, mysterious characters in games. Like,” Chiaki stretched her arms out on Nagito's leg, adjusting her position into something for comfortable. While she spoke, her fingers were busy tapping away at her game controller – with the skillful placement of an I tetrimono she managed to create a tetris in the eponymous game. The two of them relaxed on her pastel pink bed as they battled it out with little geometric shapes on her TV screen. “Those people are always alone but secretly seek accompaniment.”  
  
And for good measure to uphold her uncertainty she added, “I think.”  
  
Nagito managed to do the same with his tetrimonos and received the boon of an explosion of points.   
  
He chuckled at both the entertaining bursting block animation and Chiaki's observation. “That, or he has decided to religiously avoid me.”  
  
Chiaki leaned her head against Nagito's thigh, the boy not minding the extra weight on his quadriceps.   
  
Her fingers moved almost melodically with her controller, resounding a miniature symphony of clicks in her room. “I’m sure that’s not it. We’re all busy with our own things at this school.”  
  
“I’m aware, but…” Nagito pushed his thumb against the down button, letting the tetromonos fall with abandon. Even with his rash action, he still managed to delete rows after rows with sheer luck. “It’s not like I can rule out that he’s evading my gaze. Maybe I bothered him too much…”  
  
“Where did your fervor go! The other week you were ecstatic to see him again, and now you’re moping! It just doesn’t make sense.”  
  
“A lot of things don’t make sense. And fate dictated that all the nonsensical things in my life revolve around Hajime's clandestine being.”  
  
Chiaki abruptly turned over, rotating her focus on the game to an upside-down view. Nagito shifted his legs to comply with her change in position. She exhaled deeply. “I want to put some sense into his head and convince him that you’re not a bad guy. If another perspective is what it takes to gravitate him toward you, then I have to see him too.”  
  
Nagito smiled apologetically. “If only that were so easy.”  
  
Chiaki broke her stare on the TV and looked at Nagito. He winced, pressing the pause button so there wouldn’t be an unfair advantage in the game.   
  
“Hmmm...” the girl masked half of her face with the controller, donning her with a sinister mien.   
  
She narrowed her eyes in a menacing way. “If you’re still wondering what his talent is... maybe he’s the Ultimate Enigma. You barely see him and when you do, the moment is fleeting! Who knows – maybe Hajime is on a secret mission and he doesn’t want you to know anything about it. His fleeing is to hide his ulterior motives, and his true purpose of coming here is to – “ Chiaki shot up from Nagito lap to deliver her message dramatically, but her performance turned into a fiasco when she bumped her head into his. “ – ow!”  
  
She dropped her controller and threw her hands over her head. “Ugh... I didn’t mean to do that. Total fail.”  
  
Nagito didn’t pay mind to his emerging headache and opted to assist in allaying Chiaki's pain by putting his hand over her head too. “Are you okay? Do you need ice?”  
  
“It’s no biggie. But my plan to cheer you up ended up sucking... and,” she moved her hands to his head. “I should be the one asking if you need ice. That was my fault."  
  
He stared at her for a second, and then erupted into a fit of giggles. Chiaki raised a brow. Nagito decided to complete the cycle of gesticulations by taking her hands off from his head, returning their pairs of arms down to their laps. “What was I sad about? I seem to have forgotten. Your plan did work, Chiaki – all kudos to the head crashing.”   
  
"Hmph. If that’s so...” she made for the controller she dropped – which had been deposited on the floor – and bounced back with optimism. “Let’s continue playing!”  
  
He smiled at the girl squirming with excite. “Yes – I can’t wait until you inevitably beat me. You’re getting so close to your high score, maybe you can beat your last record!"  
  
Chiaki flopped down onto her bed again, the mattress bouncing with her impact. Nagito unpaused the game, resuming their electronic venture in a world where everything fit into place and got cemented to others like stacked bricks. That was the sort of illusory place they lived in, where they thought nothing would break the structure of that supposed impenetrable wall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay - this resulted from a combination of business, laziness, and constant checking for perfection. And oh boy, a longer chapter! Twice the amount of words in the previous ones! If there's one thing I'm proud of, it's that. Maybe the sin of sloth hasn't completely overtaken me.
> 
> Remember the DR 3 anime? Has everyone watched that? One thing I'd like to add to the list of catastrophes is its lack of showing what goes on in Hope's Peak. What the Main Course students do in class is left up to interpretation - the way I'm writing it is simply a more fun version of normal classes. And what irks me - the only thing we see about Hajime is him moping in front of that fountain and then he's flung into the despair storyline. At this point I really have to make up everything about this darn school - here, many Reserve Course students live off campus and have to muster up even more money if they want to live in the academy. Hope you guys don't mind the "canon" of this story!
> 
> So... Next up is to finally include some events I've been thinking about. I got to write them before I forget! There's only been banter going on and the implementation of actual plot would be nice, right? 
> 
> To round this out as always - thank you so much for your support, criticism is wonderful, and I'll see you next time!
> 
> edit as of aug 6, 2018 ~ vocab fixes


	6. Chapter 6

The desks seating the 77th Class were arranged into multiple islands to accommodate the different groups of students eating and talking to one another. Giggles and munches resounded, melding into a pleasant rumble of noises within the room.  
  
Nagito sat with Chiaki, Ryota, and Mikan in the back. Each held a different degree of interest in their meals – Ryota brought a plastic bag erupting in junk food, removing another bag or tin of cheap eats as quickly as he finishes another. Chiaki and Mikan had more wholesome meals coming from the academy’s cafeteria, though the former prioritized gaming on her Nantendo Gamegirl. Nagito barely poked at the succulent meats and colorful vegetables with his chopsticks, already filled by the sight of bountiful food in his bento.  
  
“Exams at Hope’s Peak work different compared to normal schools, huh?” Ryota mused, gnashing his teeth on salty potato chips through his words. “The workload in general isn’t much, but having one day per trimester with a full schedule of testing sounds kind of stressful...”  
  
“Ehh... thinking about it makes me nervous...” Mikan hunched forward and almost planted her face onto her meal. “I d-don’t know what I’m going to do for the presentation! W-what if I worry about it so much that I won’t be able to think of something to do!”  
  
The excitable girl clutched her hair and sniffled. Some of her dark purple locks fell onto her food, though it was the least of her worries.  
  
“Now, now Mikan... I don’t think you’ll have a problem at all,” Nagito raised his hands to try to comfort her, even if she couldn’t see.   
  
“You’re the Ultimate Nurse – no one else is able to mend the ill like you can. With your talent, there’s no doubt you’ll make it through with flying colors!”  
  
Mikan looked up at him, the corners of her lips trembling but lifting up. Before she could affirm her gratitude, her eyes welled up in tears and she tangled her fingers in her hair further. “H-hearing you say that pressures me even more!”  
  
“Mm... what you said didn’t help her, I think,” Chiaki stated, taking her eyes away from her game for a split second to grab a sliver of fish from her tray and eat it.  
  
Ryota wiped one of his hands on his jacket to rid of any crumbs before putting it on Mikan’s shoulder. His voice sounded uncharacteristically lower and more solemn than his usual shrill pitch.   
  
“We’re all pretty nervous. There’s nothing much to say but to not let it get to your head. You’ll do fine.”

Then, the animator immediately returned to devouring his chips. Nagito and Chiaki glanced at each other, both taking notice of the unforeseen friendliness between Ryota and Mikan. Were they always like that? And where did Ryota get this side of his personality – he didn't seem like someone who would calm someone else. Never mind the oddness of it all (for there was no use of Nagito or Chiaki questioning relationships that had nothing to do with them), the brevity of Ryota's words seemed to make Mikan a little more content – until she noticed tiny morsels of her lunch latching onto her hair.  
  
Nagito breathed out – a small sense of relief washed over him from the group’s silence. It wasn’t that he didn’t like talking to them, but acting as their audience was much more preferable. As he always thought: this is how it should be.   
  
A subsidiary role befitted him, like a parent cheering on their child during a race. And in a weird way, he saw himself as a parental figure to them – not wise and experienced, but rather a doddering old man who has never been able to win anything he’s battled for. Despite his weak heart, he’s able to feel success vicariously through the talented prodigies of Hope’s Peak. He was fond of this old man analogy and couldn’t contain his giggling when he thought of the academy as the one thing keeping his frail age intact. If Hope’s Peak Academy and the Ultimates never came into his life, would he be dead?  
  
He absentmindedly prodded at his food, finding Chiaki’s button mashing, Mikan's soft wailing, and Ryota’s appetite more palatable. He felt a little heated, and couldn’t decide whether it came from not belonging with the other three or relishing in the honor of being with them. He’s always had to worry about these sorts of thoughts – it’s been a while since he started regularly coming, but he still debates over getting out of bed every morning to throw open the gates of Hope’s Peak and welcome himself in. Did he deserve this opportunity, to be this close to the Ultimates?  
  
_It’s alright to think it’s both, isn’t it?_ Nagito bit into a small piece of meat, but dropped it back into his bento. _Meat this expensive... isn’t my taste._  
  
A voice rang in Nagito’s ears, cutting into his daydreaming. “Nagito!”  
  
He turned around – the other three behind him as well – to his teacher, Yukizome. She smiled, but with a subtle sorrow. “You don’t mind if I pull you away from your friends, right?” she pointed at the door. “It’s regarding the exams, so I promise it’ll be worth a few minutes of your time.”  
  
“What a coincidence! We were just talking about that,” Nagito rose up to push in his chair. “Before I go,” he looked at Chiaki, “watch my food?”  
  
Her eyes went from him to Ryota, and back to him. She shrugged. “No promises.”  
  
“Thank you anyway,” he shrugged back, confident in his prescience for the disappearance of more than half his meal.   
  
Nagito followed Yukizome outside the classroom, and stood in front of the door. Nagito was tempted to look through the windows and distract himself with the antics of his classmates, but he decided against this when his teacher began.  
  
“I didn’t want to interrupt your free time, but I thought it was better for me to tell you this sooner or later. Okay?” Yukizome reached into one of her apron’s pockets and pulled out a folded piece of paper with several creases. She opened it to reveal it was the Main Course’s exam schedule – to be precise, a schedule belonging to Nagito, his name written across the top to prove his ownership. “I saw you throw this away after class. You think I didn’t notice?”  
  
Nagito heard the disapproval in her voice and tried to ease the tension by laughing it off. “You fished up something I threw away? Miss Yukizome, there wasn’t any need to do that – I dropped it in the waste with the intention of not seeing it again. I wasn’t even trying to sniggle someone with it, but here it is in your hand...”  
  
Yukizome furrowed her brow and put a hand on her hip. “Now’s not the time for fish metaphors. You need this for exam day!”  
  
“You’re mistaken... I’m not going to perform. Don’t you understand? A talentless no one doesn’t deserve to share the spotlight with other Ultimates. In fact,” he began to curl a strand of hair around his finger, like a taunt. “the reason why I go to this academy is because I don’t have a talent. The purpose of me staying is to upheave my classmates in their progress to improve the world. Is there really a point in testing nothing? If the faculty finds it necessary to give me some kind of work, maybe a multiple-choice test? An essay?”  
  
Yukizome’s arm holding Nagito’s schedule fell to her side, somewhat irritated. A few times earlier in the year she’s had similar conversations with him – always denouncing himself and those he considered “normal,” and praising his classmates like it was his religion. Even if the 77th Class was her inaugural year of teaching, she felt Nagito was one of her most problematic students. It wasn’t for misbehavior – quite a few of her students liked “roughhousing” and he managed to steer clear of that. The real problems arose from the things he said.  
  
Yukizome was aware of his divergent viewpoints on what he claimed to be “Hope’s Peak’s Hierarchy” – if his cheerful façade didn’t hide his thoughts he would have seemed like someone who promoted equality, regardless of having talent or not. She saw this side of him, yet he still felt like an enigma to her. Even if it took the entirety of his stay in Hope’s Peak, she wanted to understand him. But for now, she had to barter with him to keep his darn schedule. As a teacher she still had other duties to attend to and couldn’t squander all her time on one student, even if she disliked that fact.  
  
“My insistence doesn’t come from just personal reason,” Nagito continued. “From previous years I’ve heard Ultimate Lucky Students never participate in these exams, and they are given an alternate assignment. I’m pretty sure I’m not wrong.”  
  
“You’re right! But my insistence isn’t personal either,” Yukizome paused and stepped forward. She took one of his hands and firmly placed the schedule onto his palm, patting the top like she was securing its position. “My colleagues are... interested in you. I can’t confirm anything for sure, but for now you’re considered a ‘special case.’”  
  
He looked down at his schedule in a scowl. His thumb ran over the creases on the paper, making small crinkling noises. Yukizome leaned down so she could meet his eyes again – he didn’t look up at her but she spoke anyway. “I don’t want to force you to do anything, but it wouldn’t hurt for you to try.”  
  
“This,” he gloomily kept his eyes on the schedule. “the school needs me to do this?”  
  
Yukizome clasped her hands and nodded.  
  
He sighed, exaggerating his dissatisfaction by lowering his shoulders and loosening his posture. “Alright. I don’t understand how they’re going to benefit, but if it’s Hope’s Peak Academy... _the_ Hope’s Peak Academy asking me to do something, I trust they’re making the right decision. I’ll do it.”  
  
Yukizome smiled and opened her mouth, but the whacking noise from Nagito fanning out his schedule startled her. He eyed the paper for a second, then opted the sight of his silenced teacher. “But... what am I supposed to do? I don’t have anything to show off.”  
  
“Oh! Well, you’re the Ultimate Lucky Student, so you should show them how lucky you are. I know it’s a ‘placeholder’ name since you didn’t get in by a talent, but that’s what I was told,” she placed a finger on her chin. “You could do a choosing game where you have to pick the right object out of pure chance, or maybe get dice to roll certain combinations? Things like that – but what you want to do is your choice.”  
  
“My luck, huh...” Nagito said, but not loud enough for Yukizome to hear.  
  
“I don’t want to shorten your break any more. You can go back into the classroom now,” she stepped to the side, but gave him a shot of her sparkling eyes, brimming with a motherly encouragement. “I wish you luck on your exam! I’m busy with some other things, but you can ask me more questions later if you want.”  
  
Yukizome waved goodbye and made her way down the hall, counting off on her fingers all the tasks she had left to do and scurrying off to a right turn.   
  
After seeing his teacher bumble off, Nagito returned to his schedule. The longer he held it the more he was convinced it was a cursed object. He reread the different times and places he was required to go to, and sighed.   
  
I shouldn’t make it look too flashy. Maybe I could fail on purpose to prove they were crazy for making me do this... or would that be an insult to the school’s decisions?Another sigh, more distraught than the last. Whatever works... I’ll figure it out soon enough.  
  
Nagito pressed his palm against the door to his classroom, standing in place like his feet were being weighed down. He peered through one of the windows – his heart rate picked up, and the corners of his lips lifted. The feeling was equivalent to the one he felt earlier when sitting with Chiaki and the others – that blissful, but heart-straining feeling. His classmates were on the other side, mingling in harmony. Such a beautiful scene almost brought him to tears.  
  
As he stared, he noticed the faint outline of something on the window. He squinted, making sure his vision wasn’t failing him. He realized he translucent demarcations were actually his reflection on the glass. And then he thought of his philosophy: This is how it should be. I’m a ghost among them. I only exist as their securement, the protective blanket aiding them to ensure their success.   
  
He was getting immersed in the picture, but the senses in his fingertips reminded him of the paper denoting his participation in the Main Course’s exam. For the millionth time in that moment, he looked at the schedule again. While he decided to throw it away, before he did sense it would have gotten back into his hands by some means. This fate was inescapable.   
  
He crumpled the schedule up like he did after class, but shoved it down his pocket. _What the heck..._

For the first time in his life, as he was re-entering the room, Nagito found himself questioning the academy he was so devoted to.  


* * *

 

“Hajime, your favorite girl’s here!” Natsumi flung Hajime’s door open, paying no mind to the clattering hinges ready to give up and the possible heart attack she might have caused the neighbors from the gunshot-like noise.

The breeze made by the door almost knocked down a mountain of worksheets, which Hajime had to rush over to hold it together before it fell. Beside him on the mucky floor was Sato, rendered unable to finish her equation due to the ear assault exciting her enough to break her pencil.   
  
“Really, Natsumi!” Hajime glowered at her while trying to straighten up the papers. “Are you trying to cause a hurricane?"  
  
“Whatever, it’s your fault you always keep your door unlocked. You’re so open you’ll let a criminal break in,” Natsumi held up one of the many notebooks she brought, holding it by the cover and letting the pages fan downward. “You told me I could come here to study. Remember?”  
  
“What the heck? You didn’t tell me about any of this!” Sato clenched her teeth and gripped the remaining half of her pencil. If she squeezed around the wood any harder, it could have disintegrated into little bits. She didn’t know who to pinpoint her frustration at – Hajime for misinformation or Natsumi for being there.   
  
“Um, hold on,” Hajime sprung up from the floor and raised his arms between the girls to prevent any altercations. Not only did he not want the two to fight, but this was his room they were in and he didn’t want to risk getting kicked out because of unnecessary disorder.   
But this turned out to be futile – Natsumi pushed past his outstretched arm and welcomed herself inside. She threw her books onto the floor like the building belonged to her and stomped over to Sato, who was already standing.   
  
Natsumi raised her head and placed her hands on her hips sassily, while Sato stood rigid and narrowed her eyes into thin straits.  
  
_Why does it always end up like this?_ Hajime drooped his shoulders, and then went beside the girls to reattempt his counseling. “Natsumi, you weren’t supposed to come for a few hours. You know I have other things to do, like,” he gestured at Sato, “helping other people study.”  
  
“You could’ve told me you were inviting that grimy thing over!” she countered, ignoring that the grimy thing was right in front of her.  
  
Does she really think that’s a viable argument? For the love of... Hajime resisted letting his temper loose – he never got angry often, but when he did nothing ended well. It could have originated from the accruing stress of constant studying and boring classes – maybe it was in tandem with how the two people he considered his “closest” friends at Hope’s Peak never got along. Whatever it was, he didn’t want it to monopolize his emotions.  
  
“Okay, okay... whatever. No arguments. I don’t want the owner to force me out of here because of you two fighting. There’s three ways we can solve this,” he put up another finger for every solution he offered. “One of you can leave, both of you can leave, or both of you can stay.”  
  
He put his fingers down and placed his hand on his neck, his voice a little less affirmative than before. “Um... I don’t know about you two, but I like the sound of the last option. It’ll give me some more time to myself once we’re all done. Three heads are better than... _this_.”

  
The air held stiff, the stillness of it all suffocating. Hajime readied himself, in case one of the girls lashed out at him because he had no place in the conflict.   
  
The girls’ actions were analogous: they stepped away from each other a plopped onto the floor – Natsumi doing so after tidying up the books she threw down. Like mirrored images, they opened up their notebooks to blank pages and picked up new pencils. They even grunted and groaned seconds apart, probably mumbling some insult toward one another. Hajime didn’t notice he had his hand clutched over her heart the entire time – the situation nearly went awry.   
  
“Alright Hajime,” Natsumi looked up at him. “You’re sitting down or what? I’ve been waiting all evening!”

* * *

 

Somehow, Sato and Natsumi stomached one night of studying together.  
  
The three of them discussed and mended any cracks they had in each subject. Sato and Natsumi occasionally had arguments over questions, but Hajime was there to excise their disputes. Those girls could find universally anything to fight over.  
  
After mulling over a few stacks too many of notes and reading passages and tutorials the trio finally finished their oxymoronic study session – their brains were sharpened with knowledge but at the same time tired from the amount of material they covered. It was well into nighttime by the time they got done, only adding to their tiredness.  
  
“Ugh... I don’t think I’d be this exhausted after doing a billion push-ups...” Sato rested her cheek on her crossed arms. Her eyelids fluttered – she could barely keep them open after staring at sheets of words and numbers.  
  
Hajime nodded. Hunched over, his eyes were on his clasped hands which harbored a thumb wrestling match against himself like it was the most entertaining thing he’s seen.  
  
“Man,” Natsumi looked up at the ceiling, but darted her eyes away when she noticed a few dead flies hanging out in the lights. “The Main Course students don’t have to do any of this crap. Their exam’s a million times easier than filling in stupid answers in a stupid book for a stupid grade...”  
  
The mention of the Main Course caught the other two’s attention.

“You’re saying that like you know what they’re doing...” Sato stated.  
  
“Um... duh!” Natsumi slapped her hands onto her knees. Hajime and Sato were officially jolted awake.   
  
“Do you have memory loss? My brother is the Ultimate Yakuza! And being his little sister – “ she balled one of her hands into a fist and beat it over her heart pompously, “ – I get the inside scoop on the Main Course students!”  
  
Hajime removed his interest from his hands and directed it toward Natsumi. “So... you know what they’re doing for their exam?”  
  
“Yeah,” Natsumi nodded. “They have to show off their talent in front of a crowd and judges. It’s like show-and-tell from grade school, except people actually care.”  
  
She sighed. "And unlike us, theirs isn’t scored. It’s more like a progress check. Is their talent improving? How can they grow to be even more extraordinary than they already are? It’s just... bullshit. Like, why can’t we have the same thing? They lost a heap of potential when they refused to let me in! They could’ve at least... made sure.”  
  
Sato rolled her eyes are the last part, but her expression drooped.   
  
No one said a word.  
  
If there was anything alike between the three of them, it was their jealousy of the Main Course. Sato was friends with a few of the Ultimates, but ended up being the outcast since she wasn’t recognized for having anything special about her. No matter how “Ultimate material” Natsumi claimed she was, she’s always lived in the shadow of her brother.

And Hajime. Pathetic Hajime. He could never imagine what the lifestyle of an Ultimate was like. The longer he spent in the Reserve Course, the less he believed he could gain a talent. Even if it was a childish practice, he secretly dreamed the world would turn to his favor for once and grant him a chance to feel like a somebody.   
  
“I’m going to watch the exam,” Natsumi tossed her hair with a nonchalance not matching the gravity of what she said. “I want to see what’s so Ultimate about these kids myself. If I pick up a few things from them, maybe those dumb teachers will finally realize they put me in the wrong program!”  
  
“Are you stupid? Doesn’t it take place during class?” Sato grimaced.   
  
“It’s actually on the same day as our exams, believe it or not. My brother told me they’re testing a little bit before break. So, that’ll be more than enough time to get done.”  
  
Sato straightened her posture and put one of her hands under her chin. “So, you’re ditching class when the time comes. There’s no way the teachers and security are letting you off the hook,” and she smirked, “and like you actually have the smarts to finish before that begins.”  
  
“Oh, shut up!” Natsumi jumped to her feet and stomped on the floor – probably tricking those below them into thinking there was an earthquake. Her shoulders were raised and legs bent, her hostility matching that of an undomesticated feline. “It’s not like you’re coming, so you have no business!”  
  
“Um...” Sato’s voice lowered its volume. She paused and shuffled words around in her head to make sure she had the right thing to say. And with that: “maybe, I want to go.”  
  
“W-what?”  
  
“I know some people in your brother’s class. You should know that – unless you have memory loss too,” Natsumi twitched when Sato said the second part. “Is it a problem that I want to see how they do?”  
  
“Wait, wait, wait,” Hajime stood up on his knees, “you two are crazy! How can you think of something so... so ridiculous? If you take one step outside the classroom, you’re treated like a felon unless you have a reason to not be in class. You’re asking for death if you two are going through with this!”  
  
“I never said Sato was coming with me, first of all.” Natsumi stuck her tongue out at Sato – a classic oral offense. “And second, I have a plan. I’m not going to jump out the window and expect everything to go smoothly!”  
  
He lowered his stance, sitting back down on the floor. “You’re... sure about that.”  
  
“Yes! Do you want me to say it in a billion different languages for you to understand!” Natsumi’s face flared into a bright red, and small veins formed on her forehead. She regretted telling those two – what did she expect when two goody goodies heard about some grand escape that could land her expulsion, for all she knew? She meant for it to be a statement – not a subject for interrogation. And the bimbo want to come with too, for no reason except to treat it like a circus show and gobble on some popcorn.   
  
“T-then,” Hajime couldn’t believe himself when the words gushed out. “Maybe I want to go too.”  
  
“Gosh, what am I, your chaperone! This isn’t a field trip!” Natsumi heaved for a few seconds, and calmed down after processing what he said. “Um... what the hell, Hajime. Why do you want to come?”  
  
Hajime raised a brow, but it seemed Sato was as confused as she was. “Yeah. That’s actually pretty weird for you to one-eighty like that... it’s not like puffy cheeks over here has an ingenious alibi.”  
  
“Are you hearing yourself? Do you want to come or not!” Natsumi retaliated.  
  
But, why did he say that? He understood why they questioned – he was more responsible than the other two. However, this reputation was only because of his work – Hajime was one of the most hard-working students in his class, but his record still had a few bumps and scratches. He would’ve thought his many instances of being late and involvement with Sato and Natsumi’s skirmishes hurt him, but they barely left a dent in his academic career. As long as he continued his duty as a student, any pretensions of him being a troublemaker didn’t exist. Because of that, the teachers saw him as an angel while the majority of his classmates didn’t like him as much.

If Hajime went with them to watch the exam, would a bunch of hundred percents really excuse something so depraved, so messed up, so flagrant? If he didn’t suck up to his teacher, he would’ve been on thin ice by now. Yet...  
  
He thought of that boy. How long has it been since they’ve seen each other? Days, weeks, months? Hell, it could’ve been years and Hajime wouldn’t have noticed because he remembered every detail of him – even down to how each fiber of his hair twisted. When his head went blank for a few seconds it always came back to Nagito Komaeda – it wasn’t an obsession, it was more of a longing. There was something equally soothing and distressing about him. If Nagito wasn’t an Ultimate, he wouldn’t be so scared of seeing him again. It was clear he wanted to be friends with Hajime too, but that truth was what pushed him away.  
  
It was so wrong for Hajime to want that – what business did he have with an Ultimate? Deep down though, there was something pulling, tugging at him...   
  
“If Natsumi has a decent plan, I’m willing to come. It’ll be a good experience to see those Ultimates in action, right? And if both of you are going, I should be there to keep you guys in check.” Hajime felt like he was sinking into the floor, probably sounding like a madman to the girls. This wasn’t like him at all.  
  
“He _does_ have a point...” Sato said, tapping a finger against her chin. “it makes more sense now.”  
  
Natsumi groaned. Their company exasperated her so much she rubbed over half her face with her hand. “You know what? Fine! But you two better follow the plan to the bill or we’re getting caught. You two should be thankful that I think you guys’re strengthening my alibi... there’s probably a better chance of it working out with three.”  
  
“Says the person who didn’t want us to go in the first place,” Sato sassed.  
  
“I’m not even going to argue back, okay? I don’t need a tape recorder to remember you called me dumb for thinking of this in the first place. How about you shut your trap and listen to me for once?”  
  
Hajime sighed. “This is why I have to go, too.”  
  
Staying up even farther into the night, Natsumi went over her plan with Sato and Hajime. Despite being tired before, now they were wide awake.   
  
When they finished, the three of them cleaned up the heaps of papers and books off the floor. Sato and Natsumi left to go back to their rooms – not without an exchange of glares at each other – and when Hajime said his goodbyes and closed the door, he rushed over to his bed and fell onto it. He buried his face into his pillow. Not even soft.  
  
_Hajime..._ he thought to himself. _This is the most fucking awful move you’ve made in your life._  
  
It took him an hour to force himself to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been gone for three months... I'm sorry! The updates were progressively getting longer and longer since I'm finding less time and energy to write. But I've promised from the beginning that I'm not stopping until I finish this! No matter how it turns out, it'll be a good experience for me as a writer (a piss poor one at that) and hopefully people like it, even after all this time?
> 
> I'm editing past chapters to fix minor errors. One thing I'm completely changing is the reference to names - everything is going by the English localization now (using first names, Kibougamine > Hope's Peak, etc). It's all been bothering me and I don't like it anymore? It worried me a lot that I wouldn't get any of it right, so in the end I might as well go with the version I'm more comfortable with. I'm sorry!
> 
> This really is a big mess ahh. Even if I apologize a million times I don't think that'll be able to convey my guilt. But just know I'm still here, and if you're still following this story then I owe you a hug and I love you so much!
> 
> I've been talking long enough! I'll work harder this time. I got them plans yo. With that being said, thanks for reading, criticism is appreciated, and see you next time!
> 
> edit as of aug 6, 2018 ~ vocab fixes


	7. Chapter 7

Nagito drowsily opened his eyes – the morning sun peeked through the window and soaked his room in a warm light. The weather was getting hotter than ever, so he didn’t use his sheets and wore thinner clothes while he slept. The one inconvenience endangering his body temperature was his hair, which was wild and could engulf parts of his face in heat if his head was at the wrong angle. He had yet to find a hair tie tame his curls (and he didn’t need to be reminded of the time he was scorned by Hiyoko for breaking one of hers).  
  
He turned over and reached for his phone, charging on the edge of his bed. He pulled the cord from the outlet conveniently under the bed, and his lock screen popped up and read in bold, white letters: 8:00 AM. He was fortunate to have his sleep schedule under control, as well as a nice bed and affable living space to be provided with during his time at Hope’s Peak Academy. His slumber seldom came with problems.  
  
He stretched and got up. A glance out his window showed him a few students milling about outside, probably finalizing their preparations for the “main event.”   
  
He was crestfallen since he couldn’t watch other classes but his own – the schedules issued were tight and wouldn’t allow one student a second of relief. Other than the performances, they also needed to fill in papers and do interviews regarding their talent development. It was a long and complicated process, but it was necessary. Nagito’s mixed feelings didn’t hurt as much when he will eventually get to see the product of their practices in the near future.   
  
Without a second to spare, Nagito changed out of his night clothes and into his school uniform. He tidied up his bed and gathered his things, and out he went through the door.   
  
“Nagito!” as he walked out to the front of his dorm, Chiaki skipped over to him – though as she came closer it seemed more like stumbling. She yawned in between her words. “Good... morning.”  
  
“Is it really a good morning?” he patted her head to flatten the strings of hair popping up. “You look tired... this might be a problem. If you’re too sleepy, you might not be able to do your best during the exam. How about we go to the fountain and – “  
  
“ – duck my head in? No thanks,” she used her sleeve to rub her eyes. “Too cold. I can wake myself up.”  
  
Chiaki never got up early and took advantage of the school’s absence of punishment for tardiness. She almost never got sufficient sleeping hours because she played video games late into the night, until her eyes shut in the middle of a round. He’d tell her to take better care of herself, but she bitterly replied with how he was a hypocrite and he should eat more than the teeny morsels he hardly nibbled. He found it amusing she took note of those sorts of things about him – _touché_ , he’d respond.   
  
“We’ll see about that. We should splash you with a bit of water, just in case! You absolutely can’t sleep during the exam.” Nagito asserted.   
  
Chiaki was too busy wiping her eyes to say something back, purposely ignoring his suggestion. The last thing she wanted was to be soaked before she had to go in front of an audience.  
  
The two of them began making their way to the school building, waving at and greeting students who rushed by. If he didn’t have to do the test himself, Nagito would have lost himself in the busy morning scene. He would have followed each Ultimate who caught his eye and asked about their plans, their aspirations, their future at Hope’s Peak Academy. He wouldn’t have cared how dizzy he got from continuously turning back and forth from each student he would have asked – he’s simply so intrigued by every single one of them! But instead he had to pretend to be one of them, to appease the faculty. If only he had an excuse.  
  
“Chiaki, do you mind telling me what you’re doing for your performance?” Nagito asked.  
  
“I’ve been wanting to beat my high score in Galaomega, so I’ll be trying for that,” she tilted her head toward him. “Your turn. What about you?”  
  
Nagito withdrew his breath before praising Chiaki’s gaming skill and saying how she’ll end up being successful, no matter what. What did it matter to her? Have I spent so much time with her that I’ve tainted her thoughts with overestimating of me?   
  
He didn’t look at her. “I’m keeping that a secret until the time comes. If I told anyone, they might get excited and have high expectations. I want everyone to be astounded by what you’re going to do, and not the crap I’m doing. It’s better if I surprise them with an underwhelming thing.”  
  
“Um, okay...” Chiaki pouted. “But I’m still excited for you. You’re going to be up there with the rest of us, and – “  
  
Nagito chuckled loudly, interrupting Chiaki and turning a few nearby heads. “Please don’t.”  
  
_What’s his problem..._ Chiaki swallowed her words, put off by his blunt statement. She wanted to include him with their class, despite what he always said – it was a duty of the class representative and one as a friend. She hated to characterize him like this, but he needed to stop being so selfish. He listened to every other issue she spoke about, such as the anxiety of being class rep when she never asked for it or not being able to make the early release of a new videogame. Anything related to him being equal to his classmates though – none of that went through his head.   
  
She shook her head. _It’ll get better. I’m sure of it... I think._  
  
They continued to the main building in silence. As they stepped inside the building, Chiaki eyed Nagito subconsciously touching the faint outline jutting from his jacket, a grin sneaking onto his lips.

* * *

  
The teacher stood at the front of the classroom, still as a mannequin with their arms behind their back. Even if they imitated a lifeless statue, the one moment when a student would cause misconduct they wouldn’t hesitate to grab a ruler and smack it against a desk. The teachers in the Reserve Course were frightening – it was a surprise they got their jobs when it seemed like they loathed the students. The feeling was mutual.  
  
It’s been hours since testing started. Students had to progress through countless booklets, moving on from one to the next without a moment to breathe. Once a student finished, they had to bring their tests to the front of the room and place their finished work onto a table in their respective piles. About half of the class spaced out, distracting themselves from the barrage of academics that just pushed them to their limit. The other half still burrowed through their work, seeing no end to the ticking bombs until their brains exploded.  
  
Hajime stared out the window, sometimes double taking at Natsumi a few seats ahead. He felt like needles pricked his legs, and if he got up he wouldn’t be able to walk for a few days. He didn’t know how else to occupy himself except for quietly tapping his fingers and rolling his pencil around. With every look forward, he saw Natsumi twirling her pencil or sitting there idly – he couldn’t tell if she was trying to spite him or if she actually had trouble with the tests. He and Sato had already gone up to turn in their work. It was probably rude for him to want her to hurry up since everyone worked at different paces, but he couldn’t help it. He needed to get up – if not for the Main Course exams, it would be for his damn pained legs.  
  
His pencil was pushed too far and almost fell off his desk when he heard a chair screech against the floor. Natsumi got up at last. She walked to the table with finished tests and put hers down.  
  
She turned to go back to her seat, but instead of sitting down she collapsed onto the floor. The effect was immediate – one by one students looked at the source of the noise and had their concentration broke. The ones nearest to her tried to move farther away, but they were only able to move to the edge of their seats. Hajime winced at the drool spilling out of her mouth – she was really into it. She must have enjoyed scaring everyone.  
  
The teacher groaned, pulling at their own hair. Instead of showing concern for the fallen student, they acted like it was a trifling thing. They noticed the entire class horrified by the debacle, and stamped their foot onto the floor. “Focus on your tests, for goodness sake! Two of you who are done, bring her to the nurse’s right now.”  
  
The test takers shuddered, immediately returning to their work. As for those who were finished, none of them found the idea of carrying a condescending loudmouth to the nurse’s appealing. Hajime shifted his gaze to Sato on the opposite side of the room. They exchanged nods, and got up at the same time.  
  
“I can take her.” Hajime offered.  
  
“Me too.” Sato complied.  
  
Some of the students eyed the volunteers – particularly Sato, since it was suspicious for her to assist her nemesis. She could have left her on the dusty, cold floor. Hajime was the more obvious of the two to help, since he was typically an amiable person anyway.  
  
The teacher checked their desks to make sure they were done working, despite already seeing them stack up their booklets earlier. They sighed and crossed their arms – a common sign of approval from an aggravated teacher in the Reserve Course.   
  
Hajime and Sato went to Natsumi’s corpse, which still terrified the students who sat nearby. Hajime hooked his arms under Natsumi’s and resisted gagging in disgust when he felt and smelled the damp sweat on her skin and clothes. He wore a suit every day, and even he wasn’t that badly affected by the weather – when he had the chance, he had to tell her to start using deodorant, perfume, anything. Sato was as dissatisfied as him, hesitating to put Natsumi’s legs around her body. She would rather die than have Natsumi’s rear touch her back.   
  
The pair carried the fainted girl out the room and began making their way to the nurse’s office. However, they diverted from their path and went for the back door.   
  
“Alright princess, you have legs. Stop pretending you’re dead,” Sato let go of Natsumi, which made her legs flail and her arms shoot up like a startled animal. Hajime hugged her tighter to prevent her from slamming her rear on the floor, barely escaping the potential noise that would have echoed down the hall.  
  
“All of us would’ve been dead if she fell!” Hajime scowled, met with Sato rolling her eyes.  
  
“Ow, ow! That hurts, get your arms off me!” Natsumi swatted Hajime like he was a pest and he backed off. If she had another pair of eyes she would have glared at both of her accomplices simultaneously.  
  
So much for cooperation... Hajime prodded at his collar to distract his body from shaking. He couldn’t believe what was happening – right now they were criminals. One misstep and they’d end up in Hope’s Peak’s equivalent to the slammer, and there was no way he wanted to know what that was. “So... the map?”  
  
“Right, right,” Natsumi reached into her breast pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. She opened it up, and the sheet displayed a drawn blueprint of the academy. There were multiple paths drawn with color coded arrows, all of them leading to the exam building. Her finger traced over the red arrow. “This’ll be our primary route, but if it backfires we go over here,” her finger moved to an orange arrow, “and if this one doesn’t work we just keep working through the rainbow. If your attention span is too low to remember all of this, just follow me and we’ll be fine. Okay?”  
  
Hajime nodded, and looked at Sato to see her somewhat timid expression. She was as scared as he was – or maybe it wasn’t that. She might’ve been dumbstruck at Natsumi for being able to organize this.  
  
Natsumi wasn’t kidding when she said she had a plan. That night when they were studying, she told them she memorized the area of Hope’s Peak Academy and had the information transferred onto that very map. She also knew the approximate position of each security guard, and what she assumed their walking patterns were. When Hajime and Sato asked where she got all this intel, she only answered with: “I’m not the Ultimate Little Sister for nothing.”  
  
When she said that, Sato just shook her head and didn’t infringe further. She didn’t care much about the girl in the first place, so why pry? Hajime, however, understood.  
  
The way Natsumi claimed to be the Ultimate Little Sister irked him – the title was so vague and the only thing it implicated was being the younger sister of someone. It was an odd thing to consider a talent. It shouldn’t be something so revered, especially since little siblings were always seen in an inferior light compared to their elders. In Natsumi’s situation, she was most likely always compared to her older brother. But when Hajime looked at her throwing everything into her plans, he saw more than a girl who was born a few seconds later than her brother.  
  
She was someone dedicated to work as hard as – no, to surpass him. She exhibited the same temperament a yakuza should have, and let anyone she came across be prickled by her thorns. Not only that, but right now she enacted a wile to ditch class in order to improve this talent. It was almost terrifying to think about – if they managed to get out of this without being caught, what other things could Natsumi do with her skills? Being able to mimic the same intimidating assets as a person in a mafia – not only that, but the Ultimate Yakuza himself – Hajime realized how much more dangerous Natsumi was, aside from her already petulant personality.   
  
He envied her, just a little.   
  
“Alright, out we go,” Natsumi said, cautiously looking out as she opened the door. If they weren’t careful now, all the preparation and effort they put into getting to this point would have been for naught.

It almost felt like they were in a movie or a videogame. Instead of being granted the boon of plot armor or extra lives though, if they did one thing wrong they’d be done for. Despite this, Natsumi bounced and deftly stepped to the side as she passed a corner of a building or had a bush in her way. Sato was getting close to smacking the back of her head, but doing so almost got a security guard to look their direction. It wouldn’t be surprising at all if Natsumi was playing spy music in her brain as she maneuvered past the school grounds.   
  
They remained on their first route the entire way, surprisingly not encountering any major troubles. By the time they snuck to the side of the exam building, Hajime’s head was spinning. He was waiting forever for Natsumi to get done with her test so he could stand, but now he needed to sit down. If he didn’t plant his rear anywhere and recline himself, the vertigo from his treason would probably send him to the nurse’s office (though he was supposed to be there anyway).  
  
“We should be good here,” she peaked around the corner of a building, then moving to the side and pointed at a lone entrance on the side of another adjacent building. “We’re going through there!”  
  
The trio jogged to the single door, cautiously looking around in case someone came by. They contrasted their gracious eluding with a hurried scrambling for the door handle – all three of their hands piled over one another as they forced the door open with a twist and pull. An intense wind blew into their faces and they shoved themselves through at the same time. The door slammed behind them, almost too loud. It was sure to have echoed outside.

Inside the building though, the audience was boisterous. People clambered for seats in the upraised bleachers. Cameras stood intermittently at the perimeter of the rectangular center. The three of them stood along one of the longer sides of the rectangle – to the left was the main entrance and to the right was a stage area with a long table sitting the five judges. Not one thing in the room stayed in the same place – even those who sat down were restless.   
  
Natsumi gestured at the bleachers on their side of the building. “Let’s go find a seat. Stay close.”  
  
The traffic going up the bleachers was heavy, but Hajime made sure to follow the two girls in front of him. He kept an eye on Sato’s dark, shiny hair, apologizing as he bumped into strangers. A man in a fedora cut in front of Hajime like his presence there didn’t matter, but as the man went past him and through the crowd Hajime managed to find Sato again. She went for a seat in the middle, and he followed.  
  
He sat next to her and sighed. “I almost lost you there, Sato...”  
  
To his right, a woman looked at him, bewildered. She had a similar hairstyle to Sato, but she had bags piled on her lap and wore a dark purple dress for the occasion.   
  
“Hajime, you idiot!” he heard from a few rows up – he turned to Natsumi who had a glare on her face. Sato looked equally annoyed, but not at Hajime – because he got separated from them, she was stuck sitting next to Natsumi alone. How the heck did he follow the wrong person?  
  
Hajime threw his hands up and shook his head, trying his best to explain it wasn’t his fault via body language. Natsumi rolled her eyes, not buying it. People already stole the seats next to the girls, so he couldn’t get up to go next to them. They had to deal with the situation, even if they didn’t like it. Hajime turned back around and laid back in his seat, exhaling in frustration. It wasn’t like they got caught or anything – when the exams were over they could recoup again.  
  
Hajime inspected his surroundings, noticing not only the woman next to him, but most of the audience was made up of adults donning fancy or business-like clothes. A lot of them held recording devices or notepads so they could document the event. He felt a little uncomfortable in such unfamiliar territory, and wished he followed the correct person up the bleachers. It was somewhat unsettling to sit cloistered between people who were probably ten, twenty, or even more years older than him. He wondered if the three of them looked extremely incongruous compared to the rest of the audience – Hajime’s suit blended him in with the others decently, but he couldn’t say the same for Sato and Natsumi in their school uniforms. Hopefully, they wouldn’t be recognized as students right away.  
  
He didn’t have any more time to worry about those frivolous things, since a voice echoed throughout the room due to the speakers. A man with a balding hairdo spoke into microphone on stage. “Good morning, audience. Please quiet down, the examination of Chisa Yukizome’s 77th Class is about to begin.”  
  
With that, the man sat down with his four other compatriots and the crowd quieted.   
  
It was time.

* * *

  
The 77th Class was lined up on the side of the building parallel to the stage. The fifteen students and their teacher stole the attention of every person present – them just standing there was a grand enough performance. It was one thing to read articles about them and discuss their antics on forums, the only means of tasting their gratifying talents being through strokes of black lines forming words. But in person it was completely different – sitting in front of these eminent teens was an ethereal experience. That’s just the kind of people they were.  
  
Nagito surmised those were the thoughts of every audience member – he didn’t need formal confirmation to know its legitimacy. He felt the same way, after all.  
  
He stood at the leftmost spot in the line, and was tempted to hide behind the bleachers next to him. He wanted to give his classmates just a little more spotlight, but doing so may embarrass Hope’s Peak Academy due to him not listening to the simplest of instructions and staying in one darn place. To his dismay, he had to be with them and promote his worthless self.  
  
They had to go up in groups of three – one in the trio performed while the other two waited in chairs nearby. This was so each student had sufficient time to collate the things they needed before it was their turn – this could range from huge monitors or groups of people they had to interact with. After the five groups finished, they would leave for lunch break before returning to a busy day of even more checkups.  
  
Names were called, people cheered. Every detail embedded itself in Nagito’s head – the performances of the Ultimates were enchanting. He was on the brink of crying, but he would try to keep himself from breaking down because he didn’t want to miss one moment. He never wanted the spell casted by his classmates to cease.   
  
The succinct yet gorgeous animation, eruption of 8-bit music jingling with a new high score, slideshow putting still pictures in beautiful motion, transformation of a group of adolescents from foolish petulance to forming unbreakable bonds, inoculating of a series of patients with ailments thought to be incurable, concert with unforgettable vocals, acrobatics to make the most experienced Olympians envious, lightning fast deconstruction and reconstruction of a complex machine, delicious stew that made mouths water, frightening propaganda to frighten the bravest people into submission, (false) slaying of opposing sword fighters, encouraging speech to pledge allegiance to a country no one has heard of, and traditional dance that fluttered like a flower petal – it all couldn’t end, not ever.   
  
Anything but that.  
  
Nagito was so engrossed, reality came crashing back when his stomach began to sting with pain. Hiyoko jabbed him with her fan. “You’re up, bro! Stop daydreaming like an idiot!”  
  
“No need to be so forceful, Hiyoko...” Sonia said, gently pushing the small arm away from him. “All you needed to do was say something to him, not inflict injury onto him!”  
  
Nagito released a small breath, like the oxygen circulating in his body temporarily stopped with that minor attack. “Oh, it’s alright. I shouldn’t have dozed off like that... I have to go up.”  
  
Hiyoko took his seat as he stood up, huffing like a brat. Sonia patted her back and whispered to her, probably reprimanding her for her rudeness. The shorter one mumbled, “At least I got his attention...”  
  
He began his trek toward the judges, and while he walked he was given an undeniably gratuitous introduction. He tried not to roll his eyes when one of the female judges announced: “For those of you who don’t know, we don’t usually test Ultimate Lucky Students. However, we have decided the one of the 77th Class will be the one exception to this rule. He’s a special case,” she paused for dramatic effect, “the last student being tested in this group, Nagito Komaeda, the Ultimate Lucky Student.”  
  
The audience watched him, the pressure of their pervasive stares almost tangible enough to sandwich the lanky boy. Despite their stares and judgmental whispers, he didn’t let it trip up the beat in his step. Rather, he enjoyed the negative response. Why should they be excited for someone without an established talent – someone who got into the school because of pure luck? He might be vaunted when placed among the other Ultimates, but on his own he could barely stand. His demonstration would be the most boring, it was a fact.  
  
He grinned as he strolled up to the judges, and hopped up the few steps to bring him in front of the table. The same woman who spoke before asked, “Mister Komaeda... what do you have for us?”  
  
Nagito immediately pointed at one of the microphones on the table, sheepishly smiling to convey he didn’t have malicious intentions. “Do you mind if I borrow this? I’ll be sure to return it momentarily.”  
  
The adults looked at each other, but came to a consensus and nodded simultaneously. The judge with the balding hair took his microphone off from its miniature stand and gave it to Nagito, who mouthed thank you to them.  
  
Nagito pivoted around to face the audience, cradling his fingers around the microphone. He took a few steps forward, walking off the stage and meeting the crowd with giddy alacrity. He couldn’t wait to be undermined by his classmates.   
  
“Good morning, everyone. You’ve seen the spectacular shows my classmates have presented to you. Isn’t it a wondrous thing to have the ability to see these youths and their talents?” as he spoke, he peered about the audience to make sure his words had their full attention. “We must support their growth by any means possible. Once they reach success, they will be able to bestow upon the world the gift of inestimable hope. Everyone has to do their best in espousing these students, for they’re going to be what continues the spinning of our planet. What cycles the economy, development, and overall progression of society. What – “  
  
“Mister Komaeda...” the female judge from before interrupted, speaking from her seat. “While we do appreciate you praising your classmates, we’d like to see what you can do. Please begin.”  
  
He turned back to the judges and covered his microphone so no one else would hear. “Forgive me... I didn’t mean to take up your time like that.”  
  
How can they put so much faith into me? He shook his head and uncovered his microphone. Oh well, I shouldn’t stall any longer.  
  
Nagito looked onward at the audience again, continuing to recite, but this time not distracting from what he had to do. “Excuse me. Without further disruption, I should explain what I’m going to do. What could the Ultimate Lucky Student do to prove the worthiness of his title? “  
  
His right hand slid under his jacket, lips curling up in eager. His excitement went so far as to cause his other hand holding the microphone to shake. “Of course... he would have to do something to test his luck. And there’s not a more exemplary test other than this little game...”  
  
The building was silent, waiting in anticipation. There was no knowing what he was going to do, until the moment his hand came out to unveil the heart-stopping surprise he had in store. But it happened all at once – a deluge of noise brined the building. The audience shifted in disconsolance, some jumping in their seats and grabbing onto the nearest person. The most recognizable faces nearby were Sonia’s and Hiyoko’s – both of which were plastered with looks of horror. The judges behind him rose in their chairs, and the 77th Class near the back of the building shared the same loss of composure.   
  
As if it was a normal, everyday thing.  
  
Nagito pulled out a gun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At last, another chapter. 
> 
> And here begins a newfound love between Nagito and his gun. Kidding.
> 
> I don't really have much to say here! I've been planning this arc for a very long time, but due to life going awry I slacked on the job and it's been taking me forever to write everything up. Please berate me for my laziness - kidding again! It really does make me happy when people tell me they're excited to see what's going to happen next, so I want to deliver what they want! Gotta get back to work again!
> 
> Thank you so much for sticking around (despite my constantly disappearing from reality), criticism is appreciated, and see you next update!
> 
> edit as of aug 6, 2018 ~ vocab fixes


	8. Chapter 8

“Administration doesn’t seem to have a problem with students having a weapon as long as it relates to their talent,” Nagito loosely held the firearm in his hand like it was a toy as he explained, “so I have procured a gun. This game... I’m sure many of you know it. Russian Roulette... that’s familiar, isn’t it? I’ll be modifying the rules, so please pay attention.”  
  
“Normally, one bullet is put into the cylinder and the player attempts to shoot themselves... but where’s the fun in that? Your chance of winning is so high! I’m using five bullets, and I’m testing these odds six consecutive times. One pull for each chamber... if my math is correct, the probability of me living is one out of thirty-six. But if the judges don’t think that’s worthy of an Ultimate,” he gestured at the adults behind him, “they’re always welcome to assign a more challenging fraction.”  
  
“And to clarify, I wasn’t stupid enough to put the bullets in yet. If I did that would have been trouble... besides, I can’t begin yet. I want to make sure of my legitimacy. I haven’t tampered with the gun or bullets to give me an unfair advantage, but it’s better to be safe than sorry. Someone with expertise in this area should be the one who calls my bluff. Maybe...” he looked around for his victim. He lifted his right hand, pointing the barrel of the gun at one of the students standing against the wall opposite of him. “Kazuichi Souda, the Ultimate Mechanic. This sort of thing is something you know well, right? Guns should be child’s play to someone with experience in complex machines.”  
  
Kazuichi faltered, falling against the wall and hands fumbling for nothing but air. He straightened up immediately to hide how he was scared by an empty gun – the weight of attention was flung from Nagito to him and everyone was looking at him for the second time that day.   
  
He brushed off his shoulders like he was knocking off the pressure. Before he did anything else, he looked for pity from his classmates standing by him. To his right, Teruteru pulled his hair over his eyes and avoided Kazuichi’s call for help. To his left, Akane pumped a fist in the air and beamed encouragement to him, wanting him to saddle up and get up on stage.  
  
To make matters worse, every pair of eyes on him seemed to wrap tiny invisible ropes around him, each little thread pulling him to move it. 

_These people..._ Kazuichi huffed, beginning his stiff walk to the front. If he wasn’t under surveillance by all those people he would have leaned his head into his arm and wept. What was up with the pressure on him? It’s not like it was his performance anymore. They got no sympathy!  
  
Nagito lowered both his gun and microphone and smiled at Kazuichi when he got closer, but the latter glared and kept his voice low so no one would hear his annoyance. “Not cool man. You owe me after this.”  
  
Nagito shrugged, leading him to the judges’ table. “This’ll improve your rep in the school, won’t it? Think of it as a part two to your performance.”  
  
They hopped onto the stage and Kazuichi snatched the revolver. “Yeah? It’s not like I wanted a part two anyway...”  
  
Kazuichi pushed the cylinder out and inspected the gun, the five judges watching him closely as he did this. Nagito already held his five bullets, waiting for the next hurdle of his self-imposed checkup.   
  
“Hey, is this really okay?” one of the judges said. “We’re running on a schedule – “  
  
“This will be over before you know it, don’t worry,” Nagito answered. “it’ll be so fast you won’t even remember what I did...”  
  
Around the room voices reverberated, people echoing their opinions and bouncing their thoughts from one to another. Words overlapped into unidentifiable lattices, thought they could tell they all had a mixture of the same feelings – skepticism and anticipation.   
  
No matter what everyone thought, they were curious to know the results.   
  
Frivolous comments about Nagito challenging death were traded around. The scary part about it was the levity they put into what they said, calling that student asinine for putting his life on the line, but at the same time praising him for making his performance much more interesting.  
  
Rows above the performance floor was Hajime, gripping his armrests with veins popping up on his knuckles. He gulped, but no saliva could make his throat any less dry. Is he really going to shoot himself? Six times?  
  
It was insanity for the audience for think it was suitable to sit back and view someone who might die before their eyes as something akin to a circus show.   
  
And Nagito’s aloofness before going up, the gripping speech he made, the shock he instigated, the inspection... what did it amount to? What was he trying to accomplish? It was like he was intentionally trying to sabotage himself. Like he wanted to fail. Like he wanted the audience to jostle him around. Like he didn’t care about losing his life at all.  
  
_Doesn’t he know if that bullet goes through..._ Hajime’s chest seized _. I won’t be able to see him again?_

* * *

  
“So if... this is bound to fail,” Kazuichi whispered, now having attached to the revolver a small microphone that will sound when the trigger is pulled. “What’ll... happen to you?”  
  
“Yes... we are quite concerned by this too,” a judge agreed. “It will be trouble if you...”  
  
“What do you mean, what will happen?” Nagito smiled. “You’ll be able to snatch the title of Ultimate Lucky Student away from me, simple as that. I won’t be here to hear it, so knock yourselves out when announcing my failure. I could be renamed the Ultimate Stupidity. Or the Ultimate Risk Taker. The Ultimate... Corpse.”  
  
Not one of the six of them responded. Some sort of menace hung over them that prevented the feelings of excitement the audience surround them had.   
  
Kazuichi wanted to pretend he had earplugs in, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to unhear what he said. No pun intended, but Nagito was lucky his voice wasn’t amplified through the speakers, or the audience would’ve been in worse disarray. If he managed to survive, Kazuichi was sure to give him a talking to.  
  
_If?_ Kazuichi pulled at his beanie. _Nah... he’s definitely going to survive. Definitely._ __  
  
“How long are you going to hold that? Guns don’t shoot themselves, you know.” Nagito waved his hand in front of Kazuichi’s face, expectant.  
  
He would have thrown the revolver and ran out of the building, but mishandling the firearm wouldn’t look good in front of so many people, even if he was the one who was scared. Kazuichi gave the gun a gentle shove into Nagito’s chest, looking away.   
  
As he walked back to his spot in line, he looked down at his trembling hands. He noticed the corners of his eyes were wet, and if he looked at someone else he would have bawled out. He’s never going to touch gun again – or even get within the vicinity of one.

  
When Nagito held it though, it looked like he was at home. Not once did he twitch.  
  
_What was he?_ __  
  


* * *

  
Returned to the spot he was before on the floor, Nagito waved his hands downward, informing the audience to lower their volume. The building got quieter, hypnotized by the movements of his hands when he pulled out the five bullets again. Each were placed into the gun, where they will rest in their cylinders until one was shot out with its fated pull of the trigger.

  
He pressed the muzzle against his right temple, synchronous with the immediate depletion of oxygen taken in with the bated breaths of hundreds of people. Not one camera flashed, not one person coughed or sneezed. It occurred to some watchers that they should have been causing uproars in the stands so that student could prove his luck was legitimate despite all the distraction. But no one had the inclination to go through with it – they were too engrossed in waiting for whether he was going to survive.   
  
The sounds of Nagito’s finger pulling back pushed from the tiny microphone and through the coils of wires in each speaker around the building. Too loud, almost enough to make one deaf, the possible shots came out –  
  
_Click._

_  
__Click._

_  
__Click._

_  
__Click._

_  
__Click._

_  
__Click._

  
It was over.   
  
Just like that, it was over.   
  
The audience screamed in exaltation, a commotion louder than the cheers and applause from the previous students.  
  
Nagito breathed out, lowering his right arm and removing the bullets from the revolver. He slid the instruments of his performance into his jacket, and proceeded to extend his arms as far as he could to make an exaggerated shrug. He chortled, saying quietly to himself almost in disappointment, “Looks like I’m still alive.”  
  
Everyone was boisterous, but he was still able to pick apart fragments of sentences from his watchers above.  
  
“He’s so amazing!”  
  
“The epitome of luck is right in front of us!”  
  
“We need to keep an eye on this one...”

“How are they astounded by such a small feat? How can a drab thing like luck be worthy of any praise, “ Nagito rotated his view around the audience to look at the people cheering for him. “They don’t understand… no matter how clear I say this, they won’t listen. True talent… true talent resides within…” as he monologued, his eyes focused on a certain spot. “Within…”  
  
He locked gazes with a person. There was no mistaking it – no one else would appear so incongruous to all the others. It didn’t matter if he attempted to converge with the crowd and bury himself under the roars and exaltation – Nagito would still be able to pick him out. Like a needle in a haystack, except he knew exactly where this needle was, even if it tried to hide.  
  
“H-Hajime,” he mumbled. Despite the distance, the two of them knew what uttered from his mouth.  
  
_No way... is he looking at me? He can’t be... Not when he’s the spectacle._ Hajime looked at those surrounding him, then back at Nagito. He couldn’t be staring at anyone else but him.  
  
The noise in the building went in to diminution – the babbling of the audience didn’t stop, but something seemed to drain out the commotion. Through the speakers, the voice was hazy, almost unrecognizable – one of the judges probably said something about the end of the class’ performances and not bothering the students, as well as remaining organized as people exited the building. But who really listened?   
  
Volume too high – it made his ears hurt, but it was blocked out by his eye-contact with the boy down below. What he was listening to was the tacit messages from Nagito’s eyes, which conveyed a desire. If he could, without injury, Hajime would have deliberately jumped from his seat to the floor. Even if he had to go to the hospital though, he didn’t mind. It was a deranged thought, but at least he could –   
  
A loud, shrill voice, more obnoxious than the entire audience, pulled him out of his daze. “Oh shit, Hajime!”  
  
Hajime followed the origin of the voice – as well as some adults who also heard the vulgarity – saw Natsumi pointing downward at the back of the building while Sato looked in the same direction, craven. He tried to pinpoint the exact area she was referring to, blinking, trying to clear his vision and connect the dots of the girls’ stares and Natsumi’s outstretched arm.  
  
He saw it, his heart almost stopping. Next to the front entrance where the Ultimates stood.  
  
“Security...” Hajime choked out.

Two guards stood there, their appearances matching the cliché attire of those one would see in movies – dark suits and even darker sunglasses, obscuring their eyes. And more importantly, where their line of sight was aimed.  
  
“We have to go... now!” Sato exclaimed in fear.  
  
“B-but...” Hajime didn’t know why he was refusing.  
  
“No buts! We can’t leave without you or we’re screwed!” Natsumi argued. “Better move now and hope they don’t notice your sea urchin hair!”  
  
Natsumi tackled Sato’s back and barreled them past audience members both sitting and standing – their double force knocked people out of the way like pins in a bowling alley. Some scolded them for not excusing themselves, but they cared less for their repute among strangers.   
  
Could he gather the courage to do the same?  
  
Why was he even hesitating though? His school record was in jeopardy because of the decision to go in this forsaken building!   
  
Natsumi was right – if Hajime didn’t get on with it, they would have a greater risk of getting caught. He and Sato needed to get Natsumi to the nurse’s and run back to class to secure their alibi. They could make any excuse as long as they made it back in time – Natsumi was too heavy, he and Sato were worried about her wellbeing so they stayed, Natsumi woke up so there were some problems between the two girls... but...  
  
He looked back down on the floor, where Nagito stood. He smiled with one hand up, waving with the same friendliness he always had. The same intimidating friendliness.  
He couldn’t. Not when so much was at stake.  
  
Hajime turned away and climbed over the adults in his row. His rushing caused a rippling effect in the crowd, him bumping into people made them bump into other people. He kept his head down, letting himself be guided by the path of spaces between each stranger. Soon he began to make his way down the steps of the bleachers. Three objectives: escape through the side door so no guard would see him, meet up with Sato and Natsumi. And not daring to get close to him.  
  
“What is he...” Nagito started to walk toward the bleachers.   
  
_Why did he always want to conceal himself? He knows I see him. Why... why?_  
  
He ran toward the stairs Hajime was going down. He despised going paces faster than a stroll, but when it came to Hajime he ignored this animosity. He didn’t care if the ligaments of his bones tore apart, if he started looking like a human fountain with goopy sweat dripping off, if he hammered away at his ability to use his legs.   
  
Were they the personifications of magnets with the same poles?   
  
Every time he came close, Hajime retracted, moving a distance farther than ever before. However, Nagito wouldn’t let the thought of this analogy deter his purpose.  
  
So close.   
  
He saw Hajime jump onto the floor, but there was something interposed between them – a large wall of adults. Most likely, they were congregated to bother his classmates.   
  
Did they even hear the announcement the judge made? If they don’t get out of the way...   
  
His intention was to push, but the best he could manage was a slight brush against some shoulders. Soon enough, some adults took notice of who he was. Heads turned toward him, and his ears were attacked with horrid screeched about him being the famed luck boy.  
  
He held his hands in front of him, being swamped by flashing cameras and questions and all the annoying behaviors of relentless reporters and fans.   
  
He felt something latch around one of his wrists, and he turned to find his teacher, waving her hand at the adults around them like she was shooing away birds.  
  
“Please make room for my student! He and his class have other things to attend to!” She radiated her matriarchal presence to the crowd, and they didn’t have any choice but to listen. A circular space was made around them, and Yukizome pulled Nagito with her, creating a path from others not wanting to bother the two of them.  
  
_No one would want to make the former Ultimate Housekeeper angry, of course..._ Nagito thought.  
  
As she guided him away from the crowd, she looked back at him and glared. “I needed for you to do this exam but... was it necessary to take it that seriously?”   
  
Yukizome placed her free hand over her forehead and sighed. “You had an opportunity to impress but that doesn’t mean it had to be like... what you did. You managed to pass the requirements but... what if you didn’t? You can’t do something like that if you perform again next trimester. Do you understand?”  
  
“Yes ma’am,” he said quietly, still having yet to understand the wrongness of his performance.   
  
Yukizome pushed the front entrance open, and at the same time Nagito felt the need to look back inside the building. The most dynamic thing he saw – someone wearing all black hurling themselves through the side door.   
  
He was so distracted by the adults he wasn’t able to reach Hajime in time.   
  
Again.  
  


* * *

  
Hajime threw the door open, stumbling a few steps forward and letting it slam behind him. His hands went onto his knees and he bent down, exhaling, inhaling, exhaling.   
  
_A little bit more... I have to find Natsumi and Sato and..._ his heart pounded so fast he could feel it in his ears, so fast he couldn’t collect his thoughts.  
  
“Young man.” He heard, right in front of him. The voice was deep, hoarse, chilling.  
  
Hajime felt his body go stiff, his mind went static and couldn’t process what he slowly looked up to. The two security guards – one of them handcuffed Natsumi and Sato by using their veiny, muscular hands to constrict one of the girls’ arms. They showed no struggle, glaring in opposite directions of one another.  
  
The other guard was the one who spoke. He grabbed one of Hajime’s arms. “You’re in big trouble.”  
  
Hajime opened his mouth. He stopped himself before he sassed back, halting his voice from refusing to take the accusation. He wasn’t going to convince them he was a perfect, immaculate student who was exempt from crime – they all knew the truth.  
  
Hajime squeaked out, “I know.”  


* * *

  
Hajime, Natsumi, and Sato sat in three of the frontmost desks in their classroom. Hajime sat between the girls, Natsumi on his right and Sato on his left. Their teacher stood before them, gripping the sides of the podium. They were furious, but held back their aggression and instead displayed it through changing the scowl they made at the troublemakers every few seconds.  
  
They guards who handled them stood outside the classroom in case one of them decided to bolt out. But they knew if they did, getting caught would most likely result in the academy’s version of capital punishment – being kicked out for good. The three wouldn’t dare to run away again when they’ve done it once already, not a chance.  
  
“I can’t believe you three would do something like this. I understand why Natsumi and Sato committed to it, but...” they sourly looked at Hajime, causing his unnerve to grow. “Hajime, you’re one of my best students and the most well behaved. What kind of monster possessed you – did one of those girls force you? Not telling the truth will have consequences.”  
  
_What’s with the obvious bias?_ His fists were curled in so tight, his fingernails imprinted marks onto his palms.   
  
“I...” Hajime started.  
  
He glanced at Sato, who stared at him with droopy eyes. They didn’t belong to someone with criminal tendencies – they were of someone who felt guilt for what she had done. She deliberately performed an act of wrongdoing and was waiting for her punishment. She couldn’t fight back against the teacher. However, he sensed she wouldn't mind launching an attack against the girl on the opposite side of him – she was the one who hatched this insane plan in the first place.   
  
Natsumi looked at a corner in the classroom, her forehead convulsing with veins like she was going to explode. Her teeth grinded, doing this instead of usual screaming and shouting in anger. He wasn’t sure if her withheld rage was meant for him, Sato, the teacher, the guards, or a combination of them all. Not that he was brave enough to ask her about the matter.  
  
What else could he say but the truth? His brain couldn’t make up one proposition to allay their sentence. Their teacher probably thought they were the saddest students in the school. Of course, why else would a Reserve Course student want to infiltrate the exams for the Main Course? To satiate their desire to be like them, by vicariously watching the wonders they create. But doing this will only leave them disillusioned.  
  
Sad, just plain sad.  
  
“I’m... not going to lie. We all agreed to this. We planned it out together and everything...” he leaned his back in his chair and moved his eyes from Natsumi and Sato, back and forth, searching for approval from the both of them. “R-right, guys?”  
  
Natsumi grunted, sounding like she wanted a better response but also admitting defeat for the impossibility of any embellishment of their antics. Sato barely nodded, tipping her head slightly but just enough to make it noticeable.  
  
“I see...” the teacher took their hands off of the podium and crossed their arms. “If you began it as a group, you finish it as one. Because you abetted each other, I feel it’s necessary to give you harsher punishments. All of you are exchanging poisonous ideas of defiance and I won’t allow that. You three are going to be assigned extra, extra homework indefinitely – once I see some remission I’ll cut the amount down.”  
  
They looked out the window. “The more work you get, the less likely you are to cause mischief. And if your grades plummet, you’ll end up leaving this academy. It’s fair enough for the likes of you,” they looked back at the three students. “Do you understand?”  
  
Sato was crumbling, her hands and shoulders shaking. She could only stare downward, her face feeling like it weighed more than it ever did. Some hair from her bangs were tangled into her eyelashes, not that that was a huge problem to her.  
  
Natsumi was ready to pounce. Her entire body was red, and the thin hairs on her arms and legs stood up like an alarmed animal.   
  
Hajime put his hand on her knee, grabbing her attention. He frowned and shook his head.   
  
Natsumi took a deep breath in, not releasing anything but a breath out. She gave up on her hostility, taking it out a little by pushing his hand away.   
  
The trio looked up at the teacher at the same time, saying in unison, “Yes ma’am.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 8 out of the way, and the exam arc comes to a close!
> 
> I'm going to complain more about the DR 3 anime, which happened so long ago. It's pretty clear I based the exams off of one of the episodes, and I tried to follow the format of these "performances." But I couldn't - again, so much was up to imagination. I know this episode was about how Ruruka and Seiko split apart, but during their exams the only people who seemed to be going were Ruruka, Seiko, Izayoi, and Komaeda... where was the rest of their class(es)? Did this mean that they could just drop by and do something pertaining to their talent, and leave? 
> 
> Moreover, why did they do it? When Yukizome announced they were going to do these exams, everyone seemed so... tired. As if they were going to take a standardized test, instead of simply showing the one thing they're best at in front of an audience and judges. Sure, it'd make me nervous! But the students' reactions gave me the impression that they would get kicked out if they didn't succeed... if they could have even succeeded. What constituted as a success and a failure in these exams? Isn't it contradictory to mark one of the Ultimates as "bad at their talent" when they were dubbed their titles by the very same people who are judging them? Even if that wasn't the case, or maybe something else was implied, something could have been said.
> 
> I made the Main Course's exams to be like checkups - the students display their talents in some way, people see what they have, and afterward their performances are analyzed to see how they're honing their talents. And they do these performances once at the end of every trimester, thrice in a school year! If only the Reserve Course had the same...
> 
> Hope that makes enough sense! I have some more writing to do now. Thanks for reading and the support, criticism of any kind is loved, and see you next chapter!
> 
> edit as of aug 6, 2018 ~ done w the last set of vocab fixes... for now! exam infiltration arc to be rounded out in the next couple of chapters. :>


End file.
